


waves never break

by honeyvoiced



Series: ❝ caught up in the rip ❞ [1]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Companionable Snark, Domestic Bliss, Drug Addiction, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Minor Character Death, Poor Life Choices, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Useless Lesbians, bojack horseman au no one asked for, inappropriate use of a showerhead, poor sexual choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-01-25 17:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 109,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: In which Fallon Carrington is an Oscar-coach to the stars and Kirby Anders is a PR nightmare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily based on a lot of Bojack Horseman related goodness. We love angst in this house. 
> 
> Thank you to Amanda for beta-reading, and thank you to the gc for always putting up with my bullshit.

Waking to the sound of rain on her window, Fallon Carrington rolled over groggily in her bed and reached blindly for her phone. Wincing at the brightness that she hadn’t remembered to lower before falling asleep the night before, she tried to make out the hour and read her missed texts at the same time.

 

_4:21 AM. Great._

 

Being woken up before her alarm wasn’t the worst possible scenario, but without enough time for her to roll back over and get in a few extra minutes of sleep, it seemed like a negative omen for the day to follow. Monday mornings weren’t exactly her favorite kind of mornings - new hires were just starting, fresh faced and asking a thousand questions to dampen everyone else’s productivity; the tiredness from the weekend was still settled heavily on most of her coworkers, making the day seem to last twice as long as any other; and the first-thing, pump-up pow-wows that her father’s new fiancee had started insisting on felt like a new undiscovered circle of hell.

 

Usually, she’d take the opportunity to get to the office a little earlier than everyone else. Now that the promotion she’d been gunning for had slipped through her fingers, and right into her soon-to-be stepmother’s outstretched claws, the idea of being the first in and last out sounded more _pathetic_ than _enthusiastic_.

 

Fallon headed into her en-suite and glanced up at the sunlight on the ceiling, revealing an uncharacteristically grey sky. Her mood lifted a little, and she perked up as she reached for her toothbrush next to the sink.

 

Overcast days suited Fallon perfectly fine.

 

The southern California heat seemed to dissipate a little on mornings like this. The sun not being able to burn so harshly on her skin while she commuted to work paired with the slight break in temperature always left the woman in a surprisingly good mood, even though the skyline views from her office windows were a little gloomier than usual.

 

Brushing her teeth with one hand and responding to late emails on her phone with the other, she turned around with her back to the mirror and leaned lazily against the granite countertop. Coffee, she’d decided, would be her next step - even before her shower. Moving out of her father’s sprawling Beverly Hills estate - their family home - only a few months prior had a growing list of perks, such as not feeling any pressure to be presentable first thing in the morning.

 

The apartment was surprisingly humble - for her, at least - but she’d told herself that it would be a temporary step between living at home and buying her own. Plus, it got her to the office quicker in the mornings, and not having to walk in to a room and see Cristal, her father, or worst case scenario: both of them, was enough to sell her on the place alone. That had been her thought process during the first month, but after a rough patch or two, the newfound independence that she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing was beginning to grow on her.

 

Tugging her silk robe up over her shoulders and stepping into her slippers, Fallon trekked down the stairs to her kitchen and pulled the waiting mug from her espresso machine. One of the bigger downsides to the move had been the sudden lack of household staff, but with her brother, Steven, showing her how to hook up her coffee timer to her phone, and the surrounding restaurants and catering services being more than happy to accept her corporate black card, Fallon managed to make do.

 

Her phone chirped impatiently at her as she made her way back up the stairs, now properly caffeinated and ready for a hot shower.

 

_[4:59 am] Jeff Colby: how’d you make out on that google removal?_

_[4:59 am] Jeff Colby: i’m assuming great since i just got cc’d in an email about you being ready for oscar season._

 

Half of the city was barely even awake yet, and Jeff Colby managed to have her blood boiling in irritation already. The only reason he would have even had for being awake was to try to beat her to the office once he realized she was up and emailing already.

 

Setting her phone down on the counter with a little more force than necessary, Fallon swung the shower door open and let her clothing fall to a pile around her feet before stepping in. The hot water and built-in steamers forced her to physically relax, feeling the tension that had already started to rise up in her shoulders and neck slowly melting away. Jeff was probably already _at_ the office, camped out outside from the night before just to try to one-up her first thing in the morning. That slimy _fucker_ \- she could just picture the smug look on his face when she would walk in later that morning, asking her if she’d had a nice _long_ sleep - she scrubbed her shampoo a little harder than she intended and winced at the suddenly raw feeling when she rinsed under the heat.

 

There was no point rushing, since she’d already been outdone, so she grabbed an extra handful of conditioner and worked it into the ends of her hair, taking her sweet time with her exfoliator and facial wash while the steam opened her pores and cleared the last bit of fogginess from her mind.

 

Letting herself air dry as she picked out her outfit for the day, Fallon leisurely scrolled through her phone and started placing her breakfast order - always multitasking, even when she was unrushed.

 

Driving herself around was another downside to her new place. Gearing herself up at 5:45 to leave the garage, Fallon plugged in her phone and desperately willed the sun to have not suddenly appeared in the time that it took her to leave her apartment and begin pulling her car from the secluded lot. Karma clearly felt a little bad for her first-thing-in-the-morning reminder of Jeff Colby’s existence, and the sky was still mercifully overcast when she pulled out into the street.

 

Her office was considerably closer, now that she’d moved - another bonus. No longer commuting from Beverly Hills (or sharing a car with her father), Fallon had her mornings to give herself an out-loud pep talk and come and go at her own discretion.

 

Jeff’s car wasn’t in the lot when she arrived. Gritting her teeth at the thought of being outdone with no real effort on his part, she climbed out of her own car and all but slammed the door shut behind herself as she made her way inside. Passing by Cristal’s photo on the wall in the front entryway made her cringe in disgust, feeling the espresso from earlier churning uneasily in her stomach as she swiped herself through the security gate and headed toward the elevator.

 

Flicking on the light in her office did little to brighten up the almost grey-filter effect that the outside weather had, but she didn’t mind. As much as she disliked the reminder that she still had her office because she did _not_ get upgraded to a newer, larger one, it was still hers, and she had earned it.

 

Her email inbox had filled even more in the time it had taken her to drive to work- angry agents and managers, drunken midnight emails from her ex-representees spewing leftover hatred from business deals months in the past, and the occasional desperate plea for discounted work.

 

Another figure sweeping through the half-lit office startled Fallon out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Cristal, oh my _god.”_ With one hand to her chest as if trying to physically calm her heart rate, Fallon rearranged her features into a glare as the other woman stopped in her tracks and pivoted toward the open door to Fallon’s office. “What the hell are you doing _lurking around_ here?”

 

“I have an 8 AM meeting that I couldn’t prepare for last night.” Cristal stepped closer to the door and squinted, now; suspicious. “What are _you_ doing here? Did you sleep here? I _know_ you don’t have any early meetings. Or _any_ meetings.”

 

The smirk growing on her stepmother’s face made her stomach ache return, this time out of anger.

 

“I was working. I work in my downtime, you should try it. Maybe then you can get the _next_ promotion without sleeping with the boss.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Cristal went to turn and leave, but not before adding, “Let me know when you’re ready to start working with the clients again. I might have something for you if you can ask nicely.”

 

Grinding her jaw in frustration, Fallon let her leave without another word, following after her to shut her door.

 

She spent the better part of the morning clearing her inbox out slowly, though her productivity was dampened by her constant breaks to check the news or distract herself with online chess. She knew she’d have to talk to Cristal, sooner rather than later, but the idea of grovelling for more exciting work made her feel ill.

 

It wasn’t until after her lunch break, sprawled on her own office couch with an overpriced salad in her lap, that she felt herself snap. In front of her on her tablet, her ‘suggested videos’ playlist marqueed on the screen and taunted her. Crises that she could have avoided, herself; a never-ending stream of Oscar predictions from amateur movie buffs; and poorly paired interviews (Chris Hemsworth was _above_ Buzzfeed. She could have had him bumped to the front of the line at Vanity Fair in two phone calls) glared back at her before she snapped the case shut and tossed it to the other end of the couch. Squashing the lid back onto the barely-touched salad, she shoved the container aside and stood up. Sucking up to Cristal was one of her worst nightmares, but it wouldn’t be any better than sitting back and watching their business suffer because of it.

 

“I’m on lunch, Fallon.” Cristal didn’t even look up when Fallon approached her open office door, pushing a piece of chicken around on her plate as she kept her eyes glued to her computer screen in front of her.

 

“And we both know that means you aren’t working, so my timing is perfect.”

 

Letting herself in and shutting the door behind her, Fallon stood across the desk from the other woman and planted her hands on the back of the chair before her, as if physically steadying herself for the conversation ahead.

 

“Listen, if you _really_ want to bench me for the Oscars, fine. But if you’re that desperate to tank us just because you’re mad at me over some petty personal drama, at least give me something to do while I _watch_ you burn the entire place to the ground. You’re basically wasting money keeping my office lit if you aren’t using me.”

 

Cristal sighed, setting her fork down in defeat. It was clear she wasn’t getting out of this discussion.

 

“Leaking that video of me was a little more than _petty,_ Fallon.”

 

“We work in PR, _Crissy_ , an optimist would look at something like this as a fitting challenge,” Fallon suggested lightly.

 

“You’re lucky I didn’t press charges.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Fallon crossed her arms and sighed.

 

“Look, I’ll level with you. Give me the worst you’ve got, and I’ll make it work. Both a peace offering to take a load off of your plate, and a chance to prove, _yet again,_ how much better at this job I am. Deal?”

 

“Giving you a _fun challenge_ doesn’t exactly sound like a real consequence.” Cristal leaned onto her desk and stared the other woman down defiantly.

 

“Well, some of us are actually passionate about this work, so you’ll be hard-pressed to make me miserable as long as I’m still here, and we both know you can’t fire me.” Fallon smirked, standing up to her full height. The nepotism in their office _usually_ pissed her off, but it did have a few good uses. “I practically breed award winners. You don’t have to admit it to anyone but yourself, but you _need_ me.”

 

“I’ll see what I can come up with. I have my own work to do.” Cristal waved a hand dismissively and Fallon scoffed - but turned to leave.

 

She swiftly crossed the carpet and yanked the office door open, throwing the entire room into a wall of sound from the busy hallways.

 

“Actually…” Cristal’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she turned around again, staying in her spot. She’d had enough blows to her dignity throughout the day and didn’t feel like being dragged around like a stray dog.

 

“I might have something. Her manager is basically her babysitter, I think she wanted to get a break by pawning her off onto us for the rest of the awards season.” Cristal held up a manila file, resting her elbow against her desk.

 

“What, she some wide-eyed little small-town theater nerd who got lucky and has _no idea what to do out here in the big city_?” Her tone turned girlish and mocking as she finished her assumption, stepping back over to the desk to all but rip the file from Cristal’s outstretched hand.

 

“Not exactly,” Cristal hummed, “I met with them yesterday. She’s sort of an asshole.”

 

 _That_ shocked Fallon into looking up, pausing from where she was about to open the file, before going through with it and scanning the pitch letter from the woman’s manager’s desk.

 

“Are we talking, like, a _strung-out cokehead_ asshole or a ‘ _kiss my ass I’m famous’_ asshole?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Looking up, Fallon tried her best not to roll her eyes at the amused smirk on Cristal’s face.

 

“Is this the worst you can do?” She held the file up, quirking an eyebrow disinterestedly.

 

“I’m not doing this to punish you, Fallon, I’m doing this because you’re so _passionate about the work_.”

 

The look on her stepmother’s face said exactly the opposite as her mouth did, but Fallon flipped to the next page of the file, anyway. She’d had her fair share of clean-up jobs for tarnished reputations, and as boring as the job sounded, it wouldn’t be difficult, and she’d be back to proving herself in no time.

 

“Is there actually any chance for her or did you take this on just in case you needed a backup plan to spite me with?”

 

“I think she has a chance,” Cristal spoke more honestly, now; the teasing, if not a little cruel, tone in her voice vanishing to make room for business. “ _Splintered Men_ , there’s a copy in the library downstairs. They sent a kit with her - they _really_ want us to take her on.”

 

“Haven’t seen it,” Fallon muttered, chewing her lip and flipping to the next page of the file thoughtfully, before reading aloud: “ _Kirby Anders_. Huh. Where’s her filmography?”

 

“That’s it. She doesn’t have one.”

 

Fallon’s eyes shot up from the page and locked with the other woman’s sharply, suddenly interested.

 

“I’ll take it.”

 

“She’s going to be at _Nightingale Plaza_ tonight. You should stop by - get to know the _real_ Kirby. The one who, for example, goes to clubs on Monday nights.” Cristal was smirking again, and Fallon mentally pictured flinging her out of one of her floor-to-ceiling windows into the traffic below to keep her blood pressure under control.

 

“I’ll make a note of it.” Lifting the file in salute, she made her way back out into the hallway and towards her office, glancing up and then averting her eyes when she saw Jeff laughing in his office on his phone.

 

She closed the blinds to her windows when she was safely back in her own office oasis, leaving the file on the desk, cleaning up the leftovers from her lunch, and straightening her pillows before finally getting herself a bottle of water and settling down with the package.

 

Loading up the woman in question’s _Twitter_ account on her phone, she began to scroll absently through pages and pages of updates - half-blurry and over filtered selfies with unrecognizable friends; a video of her shotgunning a beer on someone’s back patio; a rambling thread about how judgemental everyone at the airport was when she was flying back from a Cabo weekend - it was immature, and embarrassing, but Fallon had definitely cleaned up worse characters in her career.

 

Her Instagram was hardly any better - and it still featured old, framed shots of the other woman drinking while underaged. Fallon made a note to have their social media team get consent for a sweep of her accounts before they started parading her around to the press.

 

Her social media and combined file from her management team left Fallon with the stark realization that they had absolutely nothing in common on a personal level, so she checked her schedule and then worked out a plan to show up at the club she was supposed to be at. Watching people who didn’t realize (or care) that they were being watched was one of the easier ways, in Fallon’s mind, to get a read on them.

 

Copying the manager’s number to her own phone, she dialed and set up a meeting through the receptionist, forcing a smile through her words. Then, with almost nothing left to do, Fallon closed the file definitively and stood up, retrieving her purse and fishing for her keys. Cristal, Jeff, and whomever else be damned, if she was going to waste the rest of her day, she’d do it from home.

 

* * *

 

 _Nightingale Plaza_ was packed, especially considering the day of the week. Loud music poured out onto the street and spurred the short-skirted and long-legged women lined up outside into dancing coolly on the spot, obviously trying to maintain a little of their pregame buzz before having to man up and load up on the twenty-seven dollar cocktails inside.

 

Following the length of the line after handing her car keys off to the valet, Fallon slid past the bouncer as she passed him her VIP ticket and immediately tried to adjust her eyes to the darkness she was suddenly plunged into.

 

The top 40 music pounded in her head, but she already felt herself growing more and more used to the crowd and volume. She felt and heard her phone chirp through the sound and tugged it from her clutch quickly, wincing at the brightness of the screen.

 

_[11:49 PM] Monica Colby: I’m running late. Is your girl there?_

 

Fallon sighed and tried to scan the room, but it was futile. The flashing lights and overcrowding made it nearly impossible to make out even the person right next to her clearly, let alone look for a woman she’d never met.

 

 _It’s hard to say,_ Fallon typed back, tightening into herself to avoid being bumped into before heading towards one of the smaller lounges. _Let me know when you’re here. And hurry._

 

Grabbing her bottle from the service area, Fallon wandered from lounge to lounge impatiently, keeping an eye out for Kirby as best she could. She was ready to give up when Monica texted her to let her know she was outside, and with one last defeated visual sweep of the club, Fallon decided to at least make the best of a night out with her friend.

 

The two were only a quarter of the way through their shared bottle - Fallon continually reminded Monica that they both needed to work in the morning - when she spotted her. The place had really died down by 1 AM, and Fallon was almost ready to get her car from the valet and head home when Kirby Anders appeared.

 

Stumbling across the floor to what Fallon could only assume was a _close_ friend, the redhead all but tossed herself into the arms of some six foot tall brick wall of a man, sloshing the bottle that she was gripping by the neck onto the floor around them.

 

Following Fallon’s gaze, Monica squinted at the scene and then laughed, turning back to her friend again.

 

 _“No way_ is that her.”

 

“She’s taller than I was picturing,” Fallon hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side and watching her for another moment. “D’you think that’s her real hair colour?”

 

Monica followed her gaze once more and nodded.

 

“Probably. Jesus, she’s a mess.”

 

The two of them watched as she danced with her friends, her movements sloppy but the grin on her face genuine. She slugged from the bottle and all but tossed it away from herself upon realizing it was empty, before tugging a joint down from behind her ear and looking around for someone to light it for her.

 

“You know, I have a 9 AM meeting with her. D’you think she’s going to show up?” Fallon leaned closer to her friend as she spoke, chuckling despite her growing frustration.

 

“I wouldn’t count on it. Maybe you’ll get to sleep in, too.” Monica nudged her softly before standing up. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

Fallon took her hand stood to follow her lead, allowing herself one last glance back at the woman she’d been nearly stalking. Cristal clearly thought she was going to have Fallon crawling back into her office and begging for help within a day, but she’d dealt with more than enough _Kirby Anders’_ in her life. Annoying as the task ahead would have to be, the makeover-esque pay off would be worth it in the end.

 

Retrieving her car key from the valet, Fallon sat in the plush leather seat comfortably for a moment, smirking almost smugly to herself before taking off from the parking lot. She thought about her bed waiting for her, the new task she finally had at work, and how incredible that first cup of espresso would be when she woke up six hours later. It was like seeing what Cristal’s idea of a challenge for her was had cleared all of the pent-up stress and annoyance from the day like a much-needed massage. A successful award campaign was rewarding, but proving Cristal wrong, over and over again, was even better.


	2. Chapter 2

Stumbling through the sliding doors of the glaringly bright office building and steadying herself on the wall closest to her, Kirby Anders shrugged one shoulder free from the unnecessarily long faux-fur jacket she wore and scratched absently at her neck. She could already feel the makeup she’d - still half-drunkenly - tried to apply to cover the hickey there beginning to fleck away, but she was running late to her meeting as it was, and couldn’t waste anymore time.

 

“Good morning!” The front lobby receptionist gritted her teeth through her smile as Kirby approached the desk.

 

“Yeah, how ya goin’,” Kirby deadpanned, wincing internally at the sound of her own voice. The night before had done a bigger number on her than she’d realized. “I’m looking for Fallon Carrington, d’you know what floor she’s on?”

 

“The directory is around the corner.” The receptionist gestured along the edge of the massive counter, one eyebrow raising. Her tone flattened, unimpressed and annoyed, but the smile stayed plastered on her face.

 

“Right, but you’re basically a human directory, right, so maybe you could save me some time, and like -”

 

The woman cut her off, smiling a fraction brighter than she had been a moment before.

 

“Carrington Publicity, please hold!” She reached forward and clicked something on her keyboard before levelling her gaze on Kirby again. “Was there anything else I could help you with?”

 

Opening her mouth to turn the tiny battle into a full on war, Kirby was cut off once more by someone calling her name from the bank of elevators nearby.

 

“Kirby? Kirby Anders?”

 

She looked up to see a woman coming closer, dressed considerably more professionally than Kirby could say for herself in the moment. Her heels clicked against the polished marble tiles and she held her hand out in greeting as she drew closer.

 

“I’m Cristal Flores, we spoke on the phone?”

 

“Oh.” Kirby stuck her hand out quickly to shake the other woman’s, forcing a smile despite the growing hangover-nausea that she could feel building up in her stomach. She had only been standing up for five minutes or so, but that was five minutes too long. “Sorry, I’m running late.”

 

Waving a hand dismissively, Cristal turned around for her to follow suit, heading to the elevators and gestured for her to step in first.

 

“Happens to the best of us. Can I get you anything?” She swiped her lanyard against the panel next to the elevator doors as they slid closed, and Kirby watched as the entire board of requested floors to stop at cleared itself. “Coffee? A drink?”

 

“Both, actually,” Kirby followed Cristal’s confident, long strides as best she could, skittering after her out of the elevator and nearly smacking into her when the other woman stopped to check her phone.

 

“I’ll get someone to bring that to you. You’ll be right through here.” She started to walk again, leading Kirby across the hallway and toward a glass-panelled conference room.

 

Pushing the door open, Cristal held it for Kirby to step in, and she was immediately greeted by the brunette at the head of the table whirling around in her seat.

 

“This is Fallon, she’s going to be managing your campaign from here on out.”

 

Kirby stepped in further, holding a hand out.

 

“I’m Kirby,” she introduced, trying to will the soreness out of her voice.

 

“And you’re late. Sit.”

 

Kirby whirled around hoping for another second with a familiar face, but Cristal had suddenly made herself scarce

“That was probably the most unproductive and expensive fifteen minutes of your life,” Fallon warned her, dropping her gaze to the file in front of herself and flipping it open. She waited a beat, and then glanced up again, repeating: “Sit.”

 

“Oh!” Kirby jumped a little, glancing down the table for a moment before looking at Fallon again. “Should I -”

 

Gesturing down to the other end of - easily twenty foot long - table, Kirby watched Fallon’s expression turn to confusion, and then irritation.

 

“What am I, a mob boss? No. Here.” She shoved  the chair nearest herself at the head of the table toward the redhead, who barely caught it in time before it could go over her foot and all but collapsed into it.

 

“Sorry about the delay,” Kirby started to explain, “Traffic was really bad, I honestly left early, but -”

 

Fallon cut her off, raising one hand for her to be quiet.

 

“Apologies and lies don’t mix. It says here that you don’t have anyone doing anything for your social media, and that can usually come down to either us or your own team, so I’m just going to have someone take care of that on our end. I need you to sign this,” she slid a sheet of paper closer to her, with a pen, “And then you have 48 hours to backup anything you want from your Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, whatever, before we decide what stays and what goes.”

 

Kirby processed for a minute, before looking up at her properly.

 

“Can’t I just delete them and start over?”

 

“You _could_ ,” Fallon reasoned, pausing and resting one arm on the table as she leaned back in her seat. “But without any background work or really any active fanbase to go off of, having an archive we can curate an image from is going to do a lot of the legwork for us, which gives me more time to work with you, personally, on more important tasks.”

 

Kirby processed again, feeling her skin crawl with the sudden weight of what _sounded_ like a lot of responsibility.

 

“You look nervous. Or hungover. Maybe both?” Fallon’s tone was mocking, but surprisingly less mean than Kirby was anticipating. “That’s why you were late, right? Sleeping in and… doing a terrible job covering up hickeys?” She leaned over the table a little to get a better look at Kirby’s neck, and the redhead sunk herself into the collar of her jacket a little more.

 

“I told you that I was stuck in traffic, do you belittle everyone you work with or am I just special?”

 

The door opened and a young man came in, clutching a tumbler glass in one hand with a bottle of water tucked under his arm. In the other hand, a bottle of aspirin.

 

“Hey, I think these are for you,” he came closer and set them down in front of Kirby on the table, handing the pill bottle to her personally. “Cristal thought you might like these. Holler if you need anything else.”

 

As he vanished from the conference room again, Fallon turned her gaze from his retreating form to Kirby again. The looked at each other wordlessly, for a moment, and then Kirby opened the aspirin, and tossed two back, dry.

 

Clicking her tongue once in amusement, the other woman cleared her throat and turned another page in the file, revealing a hand-scrawled and highlighted sheet from a legal pad.

 

“I have to see how long it’ll take to clear everything up with _that,_ ” she nodded to the permission slip in front of Kirby, “but then I can lock down these dates, unless you know for sure you can’t do any of these?”

 

Sliding the folder towards her, Fallon leaned back in her seat and let Kirby lean over to pore over the page curiously. Scrawled in slanted, sharp half-cursive, half-print were the names of a handful of publications - Kirby recognized a few - with potential times and dates next to them.

 

“What -” she started to ask, but Fallon cut her off.

 

“Interviews. The sooner we can have everyone thinking about you, the better. After the premiere, obviously. Just in case.”

 

“Why just in- _wow,_ these are early.” Kirby stopped herself mid-question and chewed her lip. The early call-times had _seemed_ to be over with, ever since they’d finished actually filming, and she was already comfortable with her relaxed break period.

 

“Six in the morning is only early if you’re irresponsible... say, the kind of person who closes a club on a Monday?”

 

Kirby felt her throat close up.

 

“So, what, you’re stalking me? Already? Is that part of the package or is it extra?”

 

Fallon chuckled humorlessly, leaning onto the table again and fixing Kirby with a challenging look.

 

“No, of course not. I work _for_ you. We’re a team now. No secrets, no lies.” Fallon’s words would have looked better on paper than they sounded in the stern, almost mocking tone that she used. “So, the dates?”

 

Kirby didn’t even look at the sheet again, and instead locked eyes with the other woman.

 

“I can’t do _Refinery29_. They wrote that fake ass article about how some intern living in New York was only making twenty-five dollars an hour and lied about her parents paying her rent on the side.” Kirby reached over and plucked a pen from the cup nearest her, drawing a quick distinctive line through the date on the page.

 

“Who even remembers that?” Fallon argued, before she seemed to realize the jump in her volume and closed her eyes, taking what Kirby assumed was supposed to be a calming deep breath. “We’ve been working with them for _years._ Not only can they list you as someone to watch, but they promote almost every _other_ publication we want you in, too.”

 

“And?” Kirby lifted just her eyes from the page, waiting.

 

“The more times people hear how great you are, the more likely they are to believe it. And if they have a list of things to read and you just, I don’t know, _happen_ to be in every one of them, they’ll think it was their idea.”

 

“Sorry, it’s against my morals. You work for _me_ , remember.” Fallon bristled visibly at _that._ Kirby dropped her gaze to the sheet again, pursing her lips as she decided which company to pick apart next. She could feel Fallon growing more and more nervous; she could feel the slow shift of the power in the room sliding back towards her, instead.

 

“Where’s all the print media?” She asked.

 

“Online is easier to clean up if they decide to go rogue,” Fallon sniffed, reaching over absentmindedly and taking Kirby’s still-sealed bottle of water. “That list is preliminary, before we start actually doing image work. So I’d keep my thoughts concise and choose my battles carefully, if I were you.”

 

“Oh, I have a _lot_ of thoughts.” Kirby practically threatened, fixing the brunette with a smile as she sipped the water and set it aside. “Hey, so, I always wondered, do you guys set up fake marriages between movie stars, or whatever?”

 

“That’s a wedding planner’s job,” Fallon breathed, tugging her phone from her blazer pocket and tapping away at the screen for a moment before turning her attention back to Kirby.

 

Kirby fixed her with a pout, and she sighed.

 

“If I answer all of your ridiculous, unrelated questions, will you just show up to the interviews and make this easy for everyone?”

 

“It couldn’t hurt,” Kirby tried.

 

“Okay,” Fallon sat back in her chair a little, stretching her legs before crossing one over the other. “ _Occasionally_ , we will set up mutually beneficial relationships for clients. It’s not as skeezy as it sounds, I promise.”

 

“Is it always fake?”

 

Fallon seemed to consider this for a moment. She hadn’t been completely rude in the last few moments since she’d started to explain herself, and Kirby felt a little swell of happiness and relief well up inside of her at the realization that she’d found this woman’s specific brand of gold-at-the-end-of-the-rainbow: being the expert in the room.

 

“Not always, but it is when it’s our job. Real matchmaking is a manager’s job, not mine. I’m here for your image, not your self-esteem. Any other questions?”

 

“No,” Kirby hummed, glancing at the sheet and then swiping another website off of the list without even looking.

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Fallon protested, sitting up straight again and planting both feet on the ground. “What’re you doing?”

 

“I didn’t make any promises,” Kirby pointed out, setting the pen down again. “You’re _The Oscar Whisperer,_ right?”

 

“I don’t think that nickname ever actually stuck.”

 

“I thought it was cool. But if it’s true, you should be able to run my campaign without a handful of _blogs_ , right? Actually, maybe we should start with a couple of things _I’m_ going to need.”

 

She watched as Fallon’s spine stiffened and her features sharpened.

 

“I want you to see if you can get me drinks with Alice Alby, for starters.” Kirby pulled her own phone out, and pulled up her Twitter account. “She’s single, now, and now I’m probably more radar-ready. And I want proof that _she_ said no, not _you_.”

 

“So now _you_ don’t trust me?” Fallon scoffed indignantly, but then breezed past it. “That’s your big demand? You want me to see if I can pull some strings and get you a date with some pop star? Are you even _out_?”

 

“I don’t know, you’re in charge of everything about me, apparently.” Kirby pointed out.

 

Fallon was already scrawling on the corner of her piece of paper, though. “No, no, that could work, actually. Not coming out is basically the new coming out.”

 

“Oh,” Kirby felt approximately twenty emotions hit her at once, and reflexively responded, “I’m glad to know that I’m so on-trend.”

 

Fallon glanced up at her from her page and did a double-take, waving a hand. “Do _not_ bother with all of that with me. I’m here to look out for you. Any exes that we should preemptively get taken care of?”

 

“Jesus, like, _killed_?”

 

Fallon looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

 

“ _No,_ you fucking-” she cut herself off before she could properly insult her, taking another one of her deep breaths. “Like _money_. Or anyone with something to exploit. Maybe some sweet little kangaroo-farming Australian girl that we can help keep out off of TMZ.”

 

“Okay, first of all, no one in Australia _farms_ kangaroos. That’s a tourism thing, not an agricultural thing.” Kirby sat up, already rolling her eyes. “And secondly, I’m not trying to be the gay-activist nominee this year. I just wanted to get drinks. We could do it privately, for all I care.”

 

“I’m not trying to make you the gay nominee, either,” Fallon assured her, and despite the sternness to her tone, it was oddly comforting. “I’m good at my job. I make movie stars into Oscar winners, not cliches. Okay?”

 

They held one another’s gaze for a moment before Kirby conceded, sinking back into her seat and nodding.

 

“Good.”

 

“What image _are_ we doing for, then?” Kirby asked, watching as Fallon took another sip of the water that was meant to be hers.

 

“Generally with first-time nominees, we like sweet. It always polls well and it usually gets the public to pressure the actual board, not that they’re as easily swayed. It’ll help with the public-vote awards, though, even though they don’t really count for much.”

 

“Aren’t those rigged, anyway?” Kirby asked, tilting her head to the side. She watched Fallon’s eyes flick from her face to her hickey - which she’d momentarily forgotten about - and quickly straightened her neck again.

 

“To an extent. You don’t need to worry about any of that, though, that’s on our end. You should be more focused on not being spotted with your ass out getting into an Uber or dumping cheap tequila down your dress in some dive bar.”

 

“You think so highly of me,” Kirby scoffed, shaking her head and glancing at the list in front of her again. As if reading her mind and knowing she was about to strike another publication deal from the list, Fallon reached out and swiped the list away from her and placed it back in her own folder.

 

“So, I _try_ to call this singer for you, and you take _Refinery29_ ? And _Vox_?” Fallon cleared her throat and clasped her hands together.

 

“Oh, those are off the list,” Feeling an exciting surge of power, Kirby picked up the pen and tapped it against the table as if she were simply bored. “But if you absolutely, 100% call her, I’ll take the rest of the list on. No fuss.”

 

“I have a better deal,” Fallon reasoned. “I’ll get you the date. But you do the entire list. _Refinery, Vox,_ and whatever other good opportunity pops up over the weekend. Deal?”

 

Kirby watched her for a moment, letting her squirm, and then shrugged.

 

“Deal. We done here for today?”

 

She stood up, taking her untouched tumbler of scotch and throwing it back in a single gulp before setting the glass roughly back onto the table. As she turned around she noticed Cristal in the doorway, and jumped.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you -”

 

“And that is just the sort of cloying, micro-managing, smothering excellence you can expect from us.” Fallon spoke through gritted teeth, patting Kirby’s arm once before sliding past her toward Cristal and the door.

 

“I can walk myself out,” Kirby offered, ready to escape the tense situation as quickly as possible.

 

“Great. Bye!” Fallon’s tone was short, and she led Cristal off quickly without another look back at her.

 

* * *

 

 

Collapsing onto her couch with a groan, Kirby writhed around to wrestle her jacket off and shoved it onto the carpeted floor beside herself.

 

Her hangover was starting to fade, but it gave way to complete exhaustion and an overall feeling of scumminess that she couldn’t shake. Hauling herself up and deciding a second shower would be in order, Kirby wandered down the hallway of her apartment and winced at the state she’d left her bathroom in when she’d rushed out earlier that morning. Stripping quickly and tossing her clothes in the general direction of her laundry hamper in the hallway, she closed the bathroom door behind herself.

 

Strewn across the tiny counter space were multiple hairbrushes, her barely-rinsed toothbrush, and the cold ash from the cigarette she’d had while she did her makeup. Grabbing her charcoal mask from the ledge on the sink, she dug her fingers in and swiped it across her t-zone messily and closed her eyes to brace herself against the overwhelming scent of tea tree and mud that filled her senses.

 

So her awards-coach was a bit of a bitch. Her reputation was basically perfect, and Kirby wouldn’t argue with any of the points she made - not really. Still, she could tell that winding her up was already becoming a new pastime. Taking her down a peg or two without fully compromising their professional relationship would definitely make the long days of being belittled and bossed around a _little_ more bearable.

 

Her shower sputtered to life and took a moment to warm up, giving Kirby a few seconds to put her towel on the closest rack within reach of the booth.

 

As late as she’d stayed out, her night had been pretty uneventful. She’d had far too many bottles of vodka shared amongst her friends, but none of the new people she’d met had been worth keeping in contact with. It was nice, the calm before the storm of her movie premiering. A few people already recognized her from the promotional trailers, but she still had time to enjoy the way that the financial benefits of the work had upgraded her partying without being completely mobbed everywhere she went, or used for attention.

 

Climbing into the shower booth and sliding the glass door closed behind herself, Kirby let the steam relax her dehydrated skin and muscles, and then tilted her head back into the water with a sigh of relief. The itchiness that had started to build up around her neck from the makeup and the soreness in her scalp from the caustic hair products she’d used the night before washed away and suddenly she felt inclined to clean her entire apartment.

 

It was small enough, anyway, for her to get it done in an afternoon, if she put her mind to it. Her manager had asked, more than once, how the prospect of moving to a new place suited her. Even her accountant had mentioned that a home would be a formidable investment with some of her payout, even if it were just a condo - something simple. Still, she couldn’t shake the weird attachment she had to the shitty one-bedroom. It hadn’t even been her first apartment in LA, but it was the one she was living in when she had her phone shut off the same week that she couldn’t make rent, and her landlord had had to come and bang on her door for an explanation instead of phoning. The same one she’d been in when her manager phoned to let her know they’d be taking her on as a client - the same one she’d been in when she was told she’d sealed her first major motion picture deal.

 

The old, stained yellow fridge in the kitchen housed leftovers from _Vespertine_ and a case of _Moet_. Her cracked countertops were no longer covered in stacks of overdue bills, but much more often with bouquets of expensive flowers from production.

 

Feeling the mask on her face slowly beginning to crack and crumble, Kirby wet her hands and began to scrub it away, already feeling like her skin was glowing. Squeezing the last droplet of her shampoo into one palm, once the mask was working on the task of clogging the drain at her feet, she washed her hair gently and told herself that she no longer needed to rush. Whenever she found herself feeling stressed or overwhelmed she tried to remind herself that her broke self from a year earlier would have slapped her upside the head for ever daring to complain.

 

It put a small smile on her face, and she made the immediate decision to make herself a drink and order takeout for dinner that night; her go-to hangover cure that no longer required the stress of a fake sick-call to work or the concern that she’d go over her eating out budget _again_.

 

She wasn’t one for corny attachments to inanimate places and objects, but she wasn’t in any hurry to move when she was doing so well reversing the negative energy that had been floating around in the apartment for so long. She’d struggled to make ends meet for months and months - it seemed only fair to the apartment that when she did finally leave, it would be with equally good memories of movie nights and paid on-time bills and groceries to last her for weeks at a time, not just days.

 

Rinsing and shutting off the water, Kirby braced herself for the shock of cold air that would hit her when she opened the door from the bathroom, and then clutched her towel to herself as she ran down the hall to her bedroom and dove into the blankets on her bed.

 

Her phone beeped loudly from the kitchen and she sat upright, wrapping the blanket around herself and over her head like a shawl and shuffled towards the sound, curious.

 

_[11:00 AM] Carrington: Don’t forget about your social media._

_[11:00 AM] Carrington: I feel like that part got lost in between you wanting me to pimp you out._

 

She laughed out loud as she read the texts, typing back quickly, and then losing her nerve. Instead, she deleted her snarky response and replied simply with an emoji of an elephant, locking her phone and tossing it back into her purse before heading back to her room to get into her pajamas for the rest of the day.

 

She heard her phone buzz a couple more times, but ignored it in favour of making her bed and sweeping the empty glasses and water bottles from her nightstand to begin her tidying. Her hangover had dulled to a sleepy sort of warmth by then, and she completed freshening up the bedroom by lighting a candle.

 

Hell, if Fallon was able to get her the date she’d asked for, maybe an upgrade to her apartment couldn’t hurt. A bigger bed, even.

  
Feeling a sudden surge of cocky productivity, she decided she’d text her again the next morning to see if she’d bothered making the call yet. Fallon did work for _her,_ after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Fallon weaved her way into  _ Le Grand _ and headed straight to the bar, shrugging off her blazer jacket as she sat down. Despite the other woman’s adorable attempt to butt heads with Fallon, she found that dealing with Kirby Anders had easily been one of the more enjoyable parts of her day. Once the redhead had left the office, she’d suddenly been swamped with backlogged paperwork - something her assistant usually would have taken care of, if she hadn’t just fired her. 

 

Training a new assistant was always a nightmare, and Fallon had been through an embarrassing number of them in the last six months alone. She knew that sooner or later she would have to try again, especially now that her focus would have to be on Kirby, but she squashed the thought in favour of having a drink. 

 

“Fallon Carrington.”

 

The bartender spoke before he even looked at her, whirling around to flash her an unfairly charming grin. 

 

“Southside, extra mint?”

 

Chuckling to herself, Fallon pulled her phone from her purse and unlocked it. 

 

“Please, I feel like I’m dying of thirst,” she insisted dramatically, smiling when he immediately got to work. “Actually, make it a fizz.”

 

“Wow, long day?” Michael set what would be her glass down and watched her face for an answer for a beat longer before turning around to the shelves behind him and reaching for the bottles he needed from memory. 

 

“You could say that.” 

 

“Why don’t you tell me all about it, then? That’s most of my job description.” Michael poured the shaker into her glass and then reached for the fountain nozzle, but paused. “You’re  _ sure  _ you want me to ruin this perfectly good drink with  _ soda _ ?”

 

“If you want a tip, you will,” Fallon threatened, but her words were softened by the tiny smile beginning to grow on her face. 

 

He laughed in response and filled the glass, sliding it across to her on a napkin.

 

“What’s the deal with work? I figured you’d be buzzin’. This is sort of your Christmas season, isn’t it?”

 

Fallon sighed, twisting her straw around in the drink before setting it aside and taking a sip. 

 

“There’s just a lot on my plate right now,” she admitted.

 

“Speaking of, did you eat? Did you come straight from the office? Are you drinking that on an empty stomach?” Michael nodded to her drink, and she twitched her eyebrows faux-mysteriously at him in response as she took a second sip.

 

“Michael! Drink order!” 

 

Both of them turned to look at the source of the voice, and watched as Michael’s manager gestured angrily to the printer, with a small roll of chits ready and waiting.

 

“I’ll be back in a minute. Hold that thought.” 

 

Fallon was left alone for another moment, staring at the bubbles in her glass rising up to the surface and vanishing. Her thoughts wandered first to Kirby, and then to Alice Alby, the singer that Kirby had been so intent on getting a drink with. The name was familiar - Fallon knew that she’d come to them a few years prior to help clean up a scandal during her Grammy nomination, but she hadn’t been Fallon’s client specifically. She was  _ quite  _ sure, if memory served correctly, that she’d been hopeful to get that job, as well, but her father had ultimately had it handed off to someone with more musical background. ‘ _ They’ll bond over it. Her trust is important to us’  _ had been his justification. 

 

She did distinctly remember the woman, though. The brief time that she’d seen her in the lobby, just passing by, had been memorable enough. She’d been stopped by the security guards immediately for carrying open wine in a  _ SoulCycle  _ shaker bottle. She wore approximately two hundred thousand dollars worth of visible jewelry, and an inauthentic pair of Louboutins. 

 

Opening her messages, she pulled up Jeff’s name.

 

_ Who represents Alice Alby, now? _

 

“You have my undivided attention, and I have dinner coming for you,” Michael greeted as he returned to her, planting both hands on the bar and leaning towards her. 

 

“I’m  _ really  _ not in the mood for-”

 

“This is off-menu.” He cut her off smoothly, the smile never leaving his face. “Homemade. Now tell me what’s eating you.”

 

“Y’know Alice Alby?” Fallon fixed him with a thoughtful look, plucking the mint leaf from her drink and twirling it between her fingers. 

 

“I know  _ of  _ Alice Alby. I have a younger sister.”

 

Fallon chuckled, shaking her head a little. “Right, well, off the record, there’s this girl that I’m working with right now, and she practically begged me to set them up, but I’m pretty sure that it’s going to fall through.”

 

“You’re playing real-life matchmaker, now?” He asked, reaching down behind the bar and grabbing a fresh mint leaf. As Fallon took her current one and popped it in her mouth to grind between her teeth, he dropped the fresh one into her drink. 

 

“No,” Fallon sighed, feeling a cool wave of mint pass over her lips as she did. “It’s more of a favour of good faith.”

 

“I can’t imagine intentionally seeking out a publicly crazy person to date, so it sounds more like you’re gifting her with a curse.”

 

Fallon shrugged, smiling a little and shaking her head. 

 

“Whatever, that can be her own problem. I just need to get her to her interviews, feed her a couple of good lines, and then stamp her name on my resumé.” 

 

“It comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?”

 

Fallon chuckled, dropping her gaze to her drink. He was flirting - he usually was - but she couldn’t bring herself to be in the mood with so much on her mind, work-wise. 

 

Her dinner practically materialized in front of her, and she smiled, looking up at him.

 

“Alright, you’ve won me over.” She dug in, glancing up and then gesturing with one hand when he watched her. “Tell me about  _ your  _ day, now, duh.”

 

Michael humoured her with ridiculous stories of celebrity sightings and obnoxious customers until she finished her meal, topping her drink up for her and busying himself with tasks behind the bar to justify sticking to her so closely. 

 

Her phone buzzed as he cleared her plate for her, and she snapped herself out of her relaxed vibe to check it.

 

_ [7:41PM] Jeff Colby: your buddy, Kori Rucks, at Visight. _

 

Fallon felt the colour drain from her face, and groaned softly as she reached for her bag. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Michael whirled around to look at her, the concern on his face genuine. 

 

“I have to go, something came up. Here,” she pressed a fresh one hundred dollar bill to the counter and gave him a tight, apologetic smile. “You’re the best, thank you for dinner.”

 

“Anytime-!” She heard him call after her as she slung both her jacket and purse onto her shoulder and marched out of the restaurant. 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “Hello…?”  _

Fallon didn’t blame Kirby for sounding so confused when she answered the phone. She felt just as out of place even making the call after hours.

“Hey,” Fallon tried to keep her tone clipped, and business-like. “How dead-set are you on this Alice Alby thing?”

“Non-negotiably dead-set.” Kirby answered coolly. “Why?”

“I was just thinking that  _ maybe _ it isn’t in your best interest to try to dive into something while you’re about to be so busy with the campaign. It won’t be difficult, but it is a busy schedule.” She was schmoozing, just a little, trying desperately to keep her tone neutral, and helpful, as if she were going out on a limb to give Kirby this  _ very good  _ and  _ unbiased _ advice. 

“You didn’t call her, did you?” Kirby deadpanned.

“Well, not yet!” Fallon heard the frustration in her own voice and tried to reel it back in a little, scratching at her brow tiredly. She was still sitting in the parking lot of  _ Le Grand _ , ignoring the strange looks from passersby trying to peer into her car windows.

“You’re the one who upped the stakes, not me.” 

Fallon could hear the amusement in the other woman’s voice and made a silent vow to not overplay her hand again. It had come from a moment of weakness, and it was clear that this woman would jerk her around if she gave her the chance. A different approach would be in order. 

“Fine, I’ll make the call. I just wanted to make sure that  _ you  _ were sure, and to give you my professional advice - which you are, so we’re clear, ignoring. If you’d like, I can stop doing that altogether.” 

There was a long silence on the line before Kirby answered.

“No, that isn’t what I want. But I want you to keep your word. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“I will,” Fallon huffed, trying to keep her tone flat. As the conversation went on, it was proving more and more difficult to do so. 

“Good. I’m busy, though, so…”

The line suddenly went dead and Fallon frowned, pulling her phone away from her ear. She’d been hung up on. 

“Unbelievable,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head before tossing the phone to her passenger seat and starting her engine. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sprawling out on her hardwood floor and gasping to catch her breath, Fallon pulled her towel closer to herself and wiped her face, listening to the sound of her own pounding heartbeat and the slow whir of her treadmill beside her powering down. 

She’d woken up angry, and, while not entirely uncommon, it was still not ideal for her productivity. The dopamine boost from a quick thirty-minute cardio workout helped a little, as did the pre-workout mixed into her shaker cup. 

Behind her, the entertainment news channel she had been watching droned away. Updates on the Kardashians, the newest action movie that was already over-budget and over-schedule, and a nutritionist talking about Brie Larson’s diet - and how to recreate it at home - were all of no interest to Fallon. 

_ “And remember! We have  _ all  _ of the coverage you’re looking for on the road to The Oscars!” _

Her head snapped back to look at the screen upside-down. 

_ “We’ll keep you up to date on what to watch, who to watch, and more!”  _

Sitting upright, Fallon turned around and watched the mounted screen from her spot on the floor. Squinting at the spanning shots of red carpets and crowds - recycled footage from previous years - she sought out familiar faces. She felt like a kid again every time the entertainment news channels were flooded with award season excitement. Her father had once compared it to winning a bet on a horse - though one where you got to take care of and ride the horse yourself. 

Fallon’s back started to ache after another moment of sitting uncomfortably on the rock-hard floor, so she hoisted herself to her feet and shut off the television, making her way back upstairs to shower. She had been lucky,not having to go into work first thing in the morning - she needed the extra time to make sure she was completely relaxed and prepared for the day ahead. 

She took the rest of her morning as slowly as possible, and gave herself plenty of time to get to work when she was finally out the door. Stress-free. Stress-free.  _ Stress-free. _ She focused on her breathing as she weaved through slow traffic and made her way to the office, gripping her steering wheel and keeping her temper in check each time she was cut off or had to drop below the speed limit to accommodate whoever was driving ahead of her. 

She was feeling incredibly in-control and prepared to take on the day when she finally unlocked her office door and let herself in - and then it immediately slipped away into nothing when she spotted a courier envelope on the ground at her feet, which must have been slid under her door in her absence. 

Bending down and picking it up as she shut the door behind her, she turned it over in her hands and frowned. It was addressed to her by name, not just office number, which was usually an indication that it was something unfriendly, but she ripped it open nonetheless. 

Slumping against the closed door and breathing a sigh of relief, Fallon let out a disbelieving chuckle at her own absurdity - Kirby’s signed agreement to have her social media swept. She felt so relieved that she could have kissed her, if she was there - before remembering that her next task, which was  _ guaranteed  _ to be stressful, was entirely her fault. 

Tucking her bag underneath her desk and checking her reflection in the mirror behind it, she steeled herself and then marched back out of her office toward Cristal’s. The walk seemed shorter than usual, now that she wanted it to last longer, and before she knew it she was standing awkwardly outside of the closed doorway. Inwardly kicking herself for being so awkward and pathetic, she shook her hair away from her face and pulled her shoulders back, knocking sharply.

_ “Come in!~”  _ Was the muffled, cheery response from the other side. Fallon rolled her eyes and then nudged the door open.

“Fallon,” Cristal greeted, the cheeriness already fading from her tone. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ll make this quick,” Fallon offered. “I was wondering if you could call  _ Visight _ for me and possibly get one of their clients to do a be-seen with one of ours.”

“Sure,” Cristal agreed easily, and Fallon had to physically fight to keep her face free of the surprise that hit her. “What’s this for?”

Fallon’s eyes darted upward as she tried to think on her feet.

_ “Fallon.” _

“That actress that I’m doing award campaign coverage for - she wanted to know if we could set up a meeting. Just for fun. She’s a fan, I think. I’m just  _ really  _ busy making sure I get her all of the print slots before they’re all gone.”

“I thought you wanted the challenge.”

“I do, but this is just a perk.” Fallon gestured widely with one hand, raising an eyebrow. “And besides, I’m working overtime on making sure that all of this goes above and beyond - just like I said that I would.” 

“Who is the guy?”

“ _ She  _ is Alice Alby. She’s worked with us before, too, so it shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“I’m not calling Kori Rucks for you, Fallon. You had  _ so  _ much to say about petty personal drama not affecting work when it was  _ me  _ getting hurt. Either handle your high school bullshit or don’t, but I won’t make that phone call for you. Act like an adult.”

Her last comment had been much more  _ stepmother  _ than  _ supervisor, _ but she bit her tongue to avoid digging herself any deeper of a hole.

“I didn’t -  _ fine _ . Remember this if you ever need help again, though,” she threatened. Turning on her heel, she marched out of Cristal’s office and all but slammed the door shut behind her. Nearly knocking over an intern with a tray of coffees, she stormed back to the oasis of her own office to lick her wounds in private, feeling her hands shake from pure adrenaline.

Fallon poured herself a drink before settling in at her desk. Clasping her hands together in front of her mouth, she stared hard at the phone in front of her and narrowed her eyes. The drink, she decided, would be a victory drink. A reward for making the phone call that she was dreading, regardless of how well or poorly it turned out. 

_ Stop being such a little bitch,  _ she thought.  _ Pick up the phone and dial the numbers like a big girl.  _

Wrenching the phone out of its cradle before she could second-guess herself any further, Fallon quickly dialed through for Visight and tapped her nails on the edge of her desk as she waited for an answer.

_ “Visight Talent Management,  _ how may I direct your call?” 

“Kori Rucks, please.” Fallon breathed out, momentarily praying that she would be told she had retired. Or, died. 

Listening to the soft hold music didn’t help Fallon’s nerves at all, and she glanced at the drink next to her free hand, feeling her fingers twitch. Maybe just one sip, first, for luck. 

“Kori Rucks’ office.”

Fallon jerked her hand back away from the glass and sat up straighter, as if Kori’s assistant on the other end of the line could see her. 

“Is she available?”

“Depends who’s calling,” the assistant responded boredly, and Fallon could hear the telltale sign of her tapping away on a keyboard in the background. 

“I’m with Carrington PR, it’s about a client of hers-”

“Yeah,” Fallon was cut off. “I think she’s  _ really  _ busy, you could leave a message if you want, but I really don’t know how quickly she’s going to get back to you,  _ Fallon _ .” 

Pulling the phone away from her face to grip it in both hands and shake it furiously for a moment, Fallon took a deep breath before bringing it back to her mouth and responding lightly.

“Well, let her know I phoned.” 

“Mhm, sure thing.” The assistant all but laughed before hanging up.

Fallon held the phone to her face for a long moment after the call disconnected, desperately trying to keep her breathing even. Less than a minute on the phone, and she was already too furious to see straight. 

Slamming it down onto the receiver before she could help herself, she swiped up her drink and slugged almost half of it back, letting it burn in the back of her throat and bring tears up to the corners of her eyes. Straight scotch at eleven in the morning wasn’t her smartest idea, but then, neither was promising Kirby Anders she would get her a date. 

“Knock, knock.” Jeff’s voice from her doorway snapped her out of her self-pity.

“You know, opening the door and  _ saying ‘ _ knock knock’ is a terrible substitute for actually knocking.”

“And you know that alcohol is a terrible substitute for an actual lunch. Guess we’re both known to make a few mistakes.”  Jeff let himself in, and then settled into one of the chairs on the opposite side of her desk from her. “These are…  _ not  _ comfortable. You get them on clearance?”

“They’re to encourage  _ short  _ visits. What do you want, Jeff?”

“What exactly did you want with Alice Alby?” Jeff sat up a little straighter, then leaned forward to rest his forearm against the armrest of the seat. For a man who had just complained about how uncomfortable her furniture was, it had taken him no time at all to look relaxed, if not a little smug. 

“I was setting up a be-seen but I think I’m going to drop it.” Fallon averted his gaze and immediately went back to staring hard at the blank screen of her computer, desperately willing to look busy and distracted. 

“Well before you drop it, I have a meeting with Kori this evening, anyway. One of her guys is a hopeful for ‘Best Original Song’ and she asked me to handle it.”

He was bragging, and Fallon knew it, but she did her best not to react. 

“I’m really happy for you, Jeff, but I have a lot of work I have to -”

“Can you swallow your pride for one minute, here? I’m trying to help you. If you want, I can try to warm her up for you.”

“Oh, I bet you are,” Fallon hummed, clicking open her browser and letting it sit empty on her screen. She clicked around for a few more moments boredly, hoping he’d just get up and leave her alone to mope.

“C’mon,” he tried, leaning forward and having the audacity to smile a little. “Just give me the information and I’ll handle it with her.”

Pulling up Kirby’s file on her computer, Fallon stared blankly at the list of hopeful blogs and online publications that agreed to a feature or interview, and steeled her resolve. 

“Fine.” Reaching over and swiping a notecard from the pile near her monitor, she began to scrawl down a few key bits of information and then handed it across the desk, stopping a little and pulling back as Jeff reached for it. “What do you want for this?”

_ “Fallon,”  _ he chuckled, taking the card more deliberately, now. “I’m doing you a favour. We’re coworkers. It’s good for business.”

Swiping the card from her hand, Jeff stood up and adjusted his jacket, flashing her another quick smile. 

“I’ll call you when I’m done with Kori. We can get a drink.”

“Maybe,” Fallon huffed, sitting back in her own seat and then turning to face her computer again. 

Jeff paused in her doorway.

“For what it’s worth, I think you deserved that promotion, too.”

She looked up for a moment, and felt her features soften without her permission. Shaking her head a little, she cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Can’t do anything about it, now.” She pointed out.

“Well…” Jeff threw his hands up in agreement, shrugged, and then closed her office door behind himself. 

Peacefully alone, at last, Fallon kicked her legs up onto her desk and rocked her chair backward a little. She didn’t entirely like the idea of owing Jeff Colby a favour, or the idea of him helping her at all - it was always a  _ Monkey’s Paw  _ sort of situation with him - but she had taken care of the date like she’d promised. 

Grabbing her phone, she pulled up Kirby in her messages.

_ Don’t want to jinx it, but I think I’ve got you your date. It’s being solidified tonight. _

She didn’t even have time to close the message, when the ‘typing’ bubble appeared below her text, and was then quickly replaced with a response.

_ [11:12AM] Kirby Anders: you’re the best pimp i could have ever asked for _

Whether it was general endearment or just the relief that the whole ordeal was out of the way, Fallon laughed to herself, quickly typing back.

_ There’s some joke in here about you kissing my rings but _

She paused, then sighed and deleted all of the message, before starting over:

_ I scratch your back, you scratch mine. See you here at 6 tomorrow, we’ll drive to Honeyblog together. It’ll give us time to prep. _

She hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for a response with the message open until Kirby replied again a few moments later.

_ [11:15AM] Kirby Anders: i will require coffee. _

Smirking to herself and locking her phone, Fallon turned back to her computer and got back to work. She took a sip of the remaining half of her drink she’d poured earlier, much more slowly, this time, and sighed happily. Victory drink, indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirby’s alarm woke her up for the first time that week. It felt as though she had only fallen asleep minutes before, but one glance at the too-bright screen confirmed that it was indeed 5:15 AM. It also let her know that she had two new voicemail messages, and two missed texts from Fallon. 

 

_ [5:09AM] Fallon PR: Makeup artist bailed. Can you have your own face on before you get here? _

_ [5:11AM] Fallon PR: Text me to let me know you got this.  _

 

Double-checking the time in a panic, Kirby leapt from her bed and nearly slipped on a pile of dirty laundry as she ran down the hall to her bathroom to start getting ready. She played her voicemails back to herself worriedly, hoping that none of them were Fallon’s as she shoved around every product under her sink looking for her dry shampoo. 

 

_ “Hey, Kirby, my name is Jeff Colby, I work with Fallon. I wanted to know what your schedule was looking like for next weekend. A friend of mine represents Alice Alby and she was interested in getting that drink with you if you were still down. You can call me back at the office, I’m almost always here.”  _

 

Kirby paused, double-fisting her toothbrush and mouthwash. It was weird that Fallon hadn’t mentioned getting anyone else involved with their side-deal - especially considering how against the whole thing Fallon had seemed to be in the first place. 

 

_ “Hey…”  _ Kirby perked up at the sound of her own voice coming through her phone’s speaker, thoughts of Fallon, Jeff, and Alice vanishing from her mind quickly.  _ “Pick up, uhhh… wine. And popcorn. And dish soap. Thanks.”  _

 

Scrambling to save the message before it could be deleted, Kirby nearly dropped her phone in surprise when it started to ring in her hands. Fallon’s name flashed on the screen and she quickly answered, wincing as she leaned over to spit her mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

 

“ _ Ew, _ ” Fallon greeted, and Kirby could picture the look on her face perfectly.  “Did you get my texts?”

 

“Yeah, about that, I  _ just  _ woke up, I thought -”

 

“I don’t want the excuse,” Fallon cut her off. “I’m not your chauffeur and I’m not doing this again. Where d’you live?”

 

“The Montecito building, on Sanborn?” Kirby reached for her dry shampoo a second time, turning around in the mirror a couple of times. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat expectantly.

 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Fallon snapped.

 

“Oh my god,  _ please _ , Fallon, it is  _ so  _ fucking early.” 

 

“I’ll be there at 6:15.  _ Be ready _ .” Her threatening tone hung in the air after she hung up, and Kirby felt frozen to the spot for a minute before immediately diving back into her rushed routine. 

 

Miraculously, she _was_ ready before Fallon arrived, and after one look at the state of her apartment, decided it would be best to wait for her outside on the street below. She never really had gotten used to the strange mix of aesthetics that the city had to offer, but Fallon’s car pulling up to her building was a shock of shiny, expensive red against the boring neutral palette of her neighbourhood. 

 

“You’re not bringing that in the car!” Fallon called to her from the spot that she idled in once she had rolled her window down. 

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kirby scoffed, taking one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it down and crushing it under the toe of her shoe. Fallon settled back into her own seat as Kirby approached the car, slipping the door open and nearly falling into the unexpectedly low seat. 

 

Seeing Fallon in person again made the memory of their last face-to-face meeting come flooding back to her, and then she remembered the condition that they were heading to the interview on.

 

“So the Alice Alby thing worked out?” Kirby asked as she buckled up. 

 

Fallon reached into the cup holder between them, and held a large paper cup out to her. 

 

“It worked out fine,” Fallon assured her, gesturing with her chin for her to take the cup before she started to drive. 

 

Quickly taking it and holding it to her face to inhale the smell of fresh coffee, Kirby let out a little sigh before taking a sip. 

 

“... You’re  _ welcome _ ?” Fallon growled after a moment, and Kirby chuckled.

 

“ _ Thank you _ for the coffee, Fallon.”  She was genuinely grateful - it was delicious; she’d have to remember to ask where it was from when the other woman seemed less cranky. “And thank you for the ride.” 

 

The two of them sat in silence for the next few minutes of the drive before Kirby finally spoke again.

 

“So, d’you -”

 

“Do you have to fill every silence?” Fallon cut her off. Her tone was less annoyed, and more curious, though. 

 

“Pardon me?”

 

“You’re one of  _ those _ ,” Fallon continued, but a wry smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I bet you fidget, too.” 

 

Kirby quickly stilled her bouncing knee before Fallon could look over and notice it. 

 

“I was just going to ask if you always drive in dead silence or if this was a special occasion. You don’t like… listen to the radio?”

 

“I’m usually on the phone,” Fallon explained. Kirby was surprised she was humouring her, but chalked it up to early-morning, sleepy complacency. “You’re not one of those sing-along types, are you? You can put it on if you promise you aren’t.”

 

“No.” Kirby laughed to herself, reaching over and fiddling with the controls quietly. “You said we were prepping?” 

 

“Right,” Fallon sighed, stretching in her seat a little to look over her shoulder before turning sharply and hitting the gas as they were suddenly left on an open stretch of road. 

 

Slumping back into her own seat, Kirby reached for her own phone, ready to take notes.

 

“Lay it on me, boss.”

 

Fallon did a double-take at her and chuckled. “I thought you wanted to establish that  _ you  _ were the boss.”

 

Kirby waved a hand dismissively, and Fallon launched into her explanation of the interview ahead. 

 

“ _ Honeyblog  _ is sort of… they’re young. It’s not ideal that they’ll get to print anything first, but I think it’ll be a good practice round for you to get used to people throwing you curveballs. Now, most of what we have lined up is going to stick heavily to the movie itself, but this… obsession with celebrity that everyone has means that everyone’s going to want to know the  _ real  _ you. Or, at least, what we’re going to give them.”

 

Kirby fiddled with the lid of her coffee and frowned a little, causing Fallon to do another double-take at her.

 

“Don’t pout.”

 

“I’m not  _ pouting _ !” Kirby huffed, exasperated. “This just seems like… the worst part.”

 

“Oh my  _ god _ , yes, people wanting to admire and love you is  _ incredibly  _ difficult, but I’m sure with enough practice you’ll get used to it.” 

 

Fallon’s tone was genuinely annoyed, and the sharpness to it caused Kirby to recoil a little in surprise. 

 

“Look,” the brunette sighed, pulling over next to a hotel valet reception area and stopping. “Being known is horrifying. I get it. But that’s what we’re here for. They’ll know what we -  _ you  _ \- want them to know. You’re lucky. Now, get out.” She gestured at the door.

 

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” Kirby heard the alarm in her own voice and felt a wave of embarrassment pass over her, squashed by relief only when Fallon breathed out an almost-laugh.

 

“Yes. I’m going to talk to the valet first. I’ll meet you in there, just go.”

 

Kirby felt like a baby deer once she managed to climb out of the car. After sitting with her ass nearly to the pavement for the entire drive, suddenly being tall again felt foreign, like she needed to learn to walk again. 

 

She noted the sign for the live set as soon as she stepped inside and her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, but pretended not to see it as she waited for Fallon to join her. She wasn’t sure why her nerves were so electrified - she had literally just finished filming her movie months prior, and that had been a considerably higher-stress work environment than this one was. 

 

Fallon nearly materialized beside her, causing her to jump.

 

“Were you just standing here waiting for me?” 

 

“No, I just -”

 

“What am I, your mom? D’you want me to hold your hand?” Fallon wasn’t even looking at her, typing away on her phone with one hand as she fixed her hair with the other.

 

“Yeah, would you?” Kirby shot back, if only to get a rise out of her. 

 

Rolling her eyes and walking away without her, Fallon pushed the conference room door open and let herself in, not bothering to hold the door for Kirby to follow. 

 

The setup did nothing to calm her nerves. Two chairs sat facing one another, with the poster to  _ Splintered Men  _ hanging up behind the empty one. The camera setup looked just as intense as it had on the actual set, with hot box lights beaming down on the chair like it were part of an interrogation scene. 

 

The two women stood side by side for a moment before Fallon took the lead and made her way over to the woman perched on the opposite seat, talking to the cameraman.

 

“Alicia, hi, we spoke on the phone? This is Kirby Anders.”

 

Kirby felt like a child being introduced to her new kindergarten teacher, shuffling her way over almost shyly and sticking her hand out for the other woman. 

 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you!” The other woman seemed considerably more social than Fallon did, gesturing to the seat across from her. “ _ So  _ excited for the movie.” 

 

“Oh, thank you!” Kirby felt the switch go off in her mind, smiling brightly as she sat down and leaned back to be mic’d up. It was hard to see far past the other woman, given the lights straining her vision, but she could hear Fallon muttering to one of the hotel staff somewhere off to the side, and took a calming breath. 

 

“So, we just have a couple of questions - they’re more on the personal side but not really  _ too  _ invasive, y’know?” Alicia was talking to her again, so she snapped her head back to face her. “Nothing goes up live, and nothing goes up without your team seeing it first, so don’t worry about saying anything weird. Cool?”

 

“Uhhh. Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.”

 

Turning to adjust her eyes in the dark, again, Kirby spotted Fallon lounging in another chair only ten or so feet away, tapping away on her phone boredly. As if sensing that she was being watched, she lifted her eyes to meet Kirby’s, then raised her eyebrows in question. 

 

Averting her gaze again, Kirby straightened her posture and planted both feet flat on the floor. 

 

“Ready? Holding for sound.”

  
“ _ So, Kirby,  _ thank you for making time to talk with us. We heard it was your high school half-reunion this week. What better way to show up the bullies than by skipping it to be interviewed about your breakout blockbuster career?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You  _ said  _ it was going to be  _ tame _ !” Kirby hissed, once she’d almost ripped her mic off and practically forced Fallon out of the room with her. 

“I told you it would be fluffy, and pointless. Which it was. Point Fallon.” Fallon jerked away from where Kirby was holding her elbow as soon as the door to the conference room clicked shut behind them.

“Twenty questions total, and sixteen were about my dating life. How exactly are you planning on coaching me into spinning this?”

“Relax, we’ll take care of it. They’ll have a four minute Twitter video at best. Maybe a Snapchat feature.” Fallon waved a hand dismissively, finally looking up from her phone. The look on Kirby’s face must have been particularly pathetic, because she watched Fallon’s face morph into a look of sympathy, if not a tired one. “I know it was stupid. C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning.” Kirby pointed out, but she followed anyway, as Fallon steered them toward the hotel bar, instead.

“And I can tell you’re hungover. It’ll make you feel better.” 

“If you think plying me with alcohol is going to make me forgive you for throwing me to the wolves, you’re right,” Kirby hummed, feeling a flutter in her chest when Fallon laughed quietly in response. 

They sat at the bar, almost knee to knee, and Kirby realized it was the first time she’d ever taken a genuine good hard look at the other woman. She was  _ pretty _ , but mean. Thinking back on high school bullies and the like, Kirby realized that it was possible she had a type - not necessarily the healthiest target to be attracted to - but nonetheless, the appeal was there. If she ever made the effort to  _ see  _ a therapist, she was sure they’d tell her it had to do with her need to be liked. Why be attracted to someone who makes time for you and loves you when you could obsessively crush on the girl that won’t look twice at you, or doesn’t find any of your usual charms amusing?

But she wasn’t…  _ attracted  _ to Fallon. Drawn to, maybe. The thrill of making her laugh despite her outward hard demeanour was considerably more rewarding than the faux-approval from any of the yes-men she’d just spent so long working with. 

“What do you drink?” Fallon’s voice snapped her out of her mini self-therapy session, and she cleared her throat.

“Oh, uh. Just beer.”

“What are you, fourteen? Can we get a bottle of…” Fallon squinted behind the bar for a moment. “Caymus Cab Sav? If you have one chilled - yes, perfect, thank you. Sorry, we’ve been flying all night, this is basically our five o’clock.” 

Kirby snorted at the lie, catching Fallon’s eye for a moment before turning her attention to the wine glass being placed in front of her as the bartender began uncorking their bottle. 

“They’re not all going to be like that,” Fallon promised her as she watched the glasses being filled. “Once we go to the actual premiere, it’ll be better.”

“How many more before then?” Kirby asked, reaching for her glass but waiting until Fallon drank first before taking a sip of her own.

“Just one, and I trust them. You have my word, it’ll be better.”

“Do you always make this many promises right out the gate, or am I just special?” Kirby teased, grinning into her glass as she took another sip.

“You’re just high maintenance,” Fallon snarked, but it didn’t sound like her heart was in the insult. 

“Oh, I am?” Kirby grinned fully, now, lowering her glass. “Well, I’m sorry for making your job so difficult.”

“You and your weird little struggle for dominance here,” Fallon gestured between them, “is the least of my work-related concerns.”

“What’s going on?” Kirby furrowed her brow in concern, reflexively.

Fallon glanced up and caught her eye, her face changing.

“Nothing you have to be worried about. You should be focusing on the campaign.” 

Kirby sighed softly, swirling her wine around in her glass before taking another sip. It tasted considerably heavier than any of the champagne and bottom-shelf rosé that was waiting for her back in her apartment. 

“What is it?” Fallon asked, after a moment. It almost looked like it pained her to ask, so Kirby tried to keep her answer as concise as possible.

“Nothing, that was just really shitty. I’m fine.” 

Fallon nodded once, and Kirby caught her wincing when she spoke again.

“It’s just… I sort of thought the acting part was over. At least, for now. I get that I don’t exactly have the most clean look, but it’s realistic, and it isn’t like I’m hurting anybody.”

“Not everyone is going to like you, that’s a fact of life,” Fallon pointed out, reaching for the bottle and topping up both of their still half-full glasses. “And since that’s about to be amplified, by like, a million, we just want to keep that ratio healthy.”

“You don’t have to sell me on all this bullshit, Fallon, the contracts are already signed.” 

“ _ Shut up, _ ” Fallon huffed, “I’m trying to level with you here.”

She set the bottle down between them again carefully, turning to face Kirby so their legs were almost touching. 

“I’m sure  _ the real you  _ is great, but that’s all she is. The whole point of this is for people to be able to see you as more than that. I’m sure it’s very morally cool, or whatever, to be your  _ most authentic self _ ...” Fallon’s tone was almost derisive, but Kirby noted the strong tones of ‘jaded’ where she expected to hear ‘superiority’ as she continued. “But we need people to see that you’re more than relatable. You’re a talented actor. Who deserves Oscars, and then hopefully a better filmography.”

“Did you even see the movie?” Kirby asked.

“I did, and it was amazing, but my entire job is this sort of stuff. Forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm.” Fallon seemed to realize the way her words were slowly crumbling the other woman’s resolve, and she backtracked. “You  _ deserve  _ the Oscar.  _ Shattered Men  _ was incredible.”

“ _ Splintered Men.”  _ Kirby corrected.

Fallon waved a hand dismissively. 

“That’s a really expensive cabernet you’re not drinking.”

Kirby laughed genuinely, feeling a little bit lighter, suddenly. Fallon’s reputation was nearly perfect, and she hadn’t intentionally led her astray thus far, so maybe leaning into her plans for her campaign wasn’t the worst possible scenario. 

“Fine.” She slugged back her drink and held the glass out, but when Fallon simply gave her a disbelieving look, she refilled it herself.

“Now you can focus on your date with your psycho popstar that tried to light the Barnes and Noble on fire last winter,” Fallon quipped, taking another sip of her own wine. “And, you’re welcome, by the way, I never got a real ‘thank you’.”

“I already called you, like, the best pimp ever,” Kirby pointed out, the grin creeping across her face before she could help it. “But  _ thank you _ , Fallon, for doing the bare minimum of holding up your end of our deal, and not even asking Jeff Colby to do it for you.”

Fallon choked, covering her mouth quickly before she could spit wine.

“Oh yeah,” Kirby laughed. “I know  _ all  _ about it. Actually, I don’t know anything. I was sort of hoping you could fill me in.”

Fallon sighed, turning her seat back straight to be facing the bar before answering.

“Alice’s representation and I have a complicated history. She and I don’t exactly get along, so I had a coworker help me out. And  _ how  _ do you even know about that?”

“Oh, he called me,” Kirby dug her phone out, skipping through her voicemails to try to find the one she’d listened to that morning before Fallon had picked her up. As she scrolled, Fallon spoke again.

“I told you I’d get you the date. I came through, didn’t I?”

“You did, you did,” Kirby conceded. “So, what, is this another number I have to save?”

“ _ No! _ ” Fallon’s voice was surprisingly stern, and it caused Kirby to jump in her seat a little. “You are  _ my  _ responsibility, not his. Like I said, it was just… a favour between coworkers.”

“Ooh!~” Kirby reached over to nudge the other woman’s arm.

“He’s my cousin,” she deadpanned, causing Kirby to recoil.

“Oh, gross. ‘ _ Ooh’ _ redacted.”

“Yeah.” Fallon swirled her own remaining few sips of wine around, staring into the glass for a moment. “It doesn’t matter. You have your date, I have you showing up for your interviews, everybody wins.” 

“Guess so.” Kirby slammed the last of her own glass, and then slid the bottle back to the bartender. “Could you recork this for me?”

Fallon chuckled at the ballsiness of the move, but didn’t protest, letting Kirby take the bottle and tuck it into her purse as she slid down from her barstool. She led the way this time, suddenly awash with relief that her obnoxious interview was over, and glanced back at Fallon with one eyebrow raised.

“Are you coming? You’re my ride.”

Fallon slid down as well, following her toward the front doors and then across the lot to the valet podium. 

“You’re driving yourself tomorrow,” Fallon reminded her as they waited for her car. 

“I’ll get there,” Kirby sighed, rolling her eyes. “Y’know, you don’t have to babysit me all of the time.”

Fallon straightened up as her car slid smoothly into the loading zone in front of them, then fixed Kirby with an amused look of disbelief as she opened her passenger side door for her.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted as Kirby climbed in, shutting the door with a snap.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey!”

 

Cristal’s voice sounded like a combination of cheerful and apologetic, and it immediately set Fallon on edge. She instantly tensed up her shoulders and slowly turned from her desk to face her soon-to-be-stepmother with a molten glare.

 

“I’m busy,” she insisted.

 

“I just wanted to know how _Honeyblog_ went.”

 

“As much as I appreciate your helicopter step-parenting, I don’t need you to check up on me after every basic day-to-day task that I complete. I do, in fact, have seniority, here.” Fallon gave her a pitying final look of dismissal and turned back to her computer screen, adding, “And _Honeyblog_ was a nightmare. As usual.”

 

She could feel Cristal hovering and sighed as she turned to face her again.

 

 _“What?_ ”

 

“Your father is here, we wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Tell him I’m in a meeting,” Fallon huffed, rolling her eyes.

 

“I’m not going to lie to him,” Cristal scoffed, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe as if she could sense she would be there for a while.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Fallon pointed out.

 

“If you want me to have him come corner you in your own office instead, I can have it arranged,” Cristal threatened. “Or you can come with me.”

 

Roughly shoving herself away from her desk, Fallon stood up and gripped her hair for a moment to get the explosion of anger that went off in her chest under control.

 

“Fine. This better not be a waste of my time.”

 

“Of course not,” Cristal practically cooed mockingly, turning to lead the way down the hall back toward her own office.

 

Fallon felt the dread weighing over her get heavier and heavier with each step that she took, her mind racing through the possibilities of what they could possibly need to pull her away from work to discuss. Maybe they’d heard she’d pulled in a favour with Alice Alby, or maybe Cristal had already known when she came in that _Honeyblog_ had been a disaster.

 

“Don’t tell me that the two of you have been sitting in here in silence this entire time,” Cristal chided as she pushed her door open. Fallon followed her in and spotted her father standing next to the desk, hands tucked into his pockets.

 

“ _Dad and I can say so much with so few words.”_ Her brother’s voice startled Fallon before she noticed the phone off of the hook in the middle of the desk.

 

“Steven?”

 

“Hey, Fallon.”  She felt an immediate tug in her chest at finally hearing his voice again. She knew she could have called more often, but that never seemed important until she was talking with him again.

 

“What’s going on?” She glanced up at Cristal, first, then at her father again.

 

“Sit down, we have some news.”

 

“Ugh, you’re not pregnant, are you?” Fallon turned her gaze back to Cristal.

 

“No-”

 

“Dying?”

 

“ _Fallon_.” Her father’s tone was suddenly much sharper, and he gestured impatiently for her to sit. She did, crossing one leg over the other and perching right on the edge of her seat in case she needed to make a quick getaway.

 

“Cristal and I have decided to push up the date for the wedding.” Blake reached for Cristal’s hand, smiling at her before turning his gaze back on Fallon, the loving expression dissolving.

 

“Great, I can’t wait,” Fallon deadpanned. “Are we pushing up the inevitable divorce, too?”

 

“We have the venue booked for six weeks from now.”

 

“On the Saturday?” Fallon felt the grin slowly spreading across her face before she could stop it. “I’m busy. I have the Hamptons International Film Festival.”

 

“You’ll have to find someone to take your spot,” Blake said, leaning against the desk next to where Cristal stood. “Family comes first.”

 

“Since _when_?” Fallon scoffed, sitting straighter in her seat.

 

“ _It isn’t convenient for me, either, Fallon.”_ Steven spoke next, and her eyes darted to the phone speaker as if he were really there. “ _But he’s right. I was excited for them when they told me, maybe you could try to do the same.”_

 

 _“When_ they told you?” Fallon snapped, her eyes narrowing. “You told Steven first?”

 

She looked between Blake and Cristal, her anger already beginning to slip out of her control.

 

“You didn’t even have the decency to talk to us at the same time?”  She felt the icy chill of embarrassment beginning to cut through the frustration when it suddenly dawned on her what was happening. “Did you _really_ think you needed to have him here just as a buffer? What am I, ten years old?”

 

“Look at how you’re acting now!” Blake gestured at her widely and she sunk into her seat a little more. He immediately lowered his voice, getting himself under control. “You already knew that we were getting married. You’ll be at the wedding, I’m not letting you embarrass me like that.”

 

“I told you that I have a prior engagement. If it was _that_ important for your _only_ daughter to be there, you’d have planned it better. I’m not going.” Fallon stood up. “Sorry. Bye, Steven.”

 

With that, she headed out of the office, ignoring the multiple protests behind her.

 

She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was bothered in her own office again, so she grabbed her purse and wandered down the hall to Jeff’s office, poking her head inside and waiting for him to look up.

 

“I have to head out, could you cover for me?”

 

“What’s going on?” Jeff pulled his glasses off, looking at her with his brow furrowed.

 

“Just some house calls, and I have to meet up with Kirby Anders.”

 

“Alright, no problem.” Jeff opened his mouth to clearly ask more follow-up questions, but Fallon quickly made herself scarce. She didn’t want to go home - the office was her oasis during the day, and being in her apartment when it wasn’t a day off felt wrong, like skipping school without being sick.

 

She headed down to the media library in the lobby and took the copy of _Splintered Men_ that had been waiting for her since she’d agreed to take Kirby on as a client in the first place. If anything, she could sit in her car and watch it to kill the time, if she found nothing better to do.

 

She drove for almost two hours. It was still early afternoon, and she wanted to be certain that she had all her rage fully in check before she subjected anyone else to being in contact with her.  It wasn’t until she had parked outside of _Le Grand_ that she even realized where she’d been going. It was a stupid, muscle-memory move - Michael never worked day shifts - but she felt too embarrassed with herself to turn back, and went inside.

 

The woman behind the bar was unfamiliar to her, but it was refreshing. She grabbed a seat and pulled out her phone, only glancing up when the bartender turned around to greet her.

 

She ordered a glass of wine and tugged a menu toward herself to take a look at - anger was usually easily combated with good food.

 

“What’s good here?”

 

Fallon’s question surprised the bartender into turning to her again, smiling brightly.

 

“I like the _Ceviche_ , but if you’re hungrier than that, the _Sole Meunier_ is incredible.”

 

“Do they, like, make you try everything on the menu?” Fallon leaned on the bar curiously, setting her phone down for a moment.

 

“No,” the bartender sighed, “But when I work a dinner service, it’s the only place I can get a full meal at two AM when it’s time to clock out.”

 

“I guess that makes sense.” Fallon leaned back again and reached for her phone. “I’ll do the _Ceviche_ but it better be as good as you say.”

 

Flashing Fallon a surprisingly sly grin, the woman set down the glass she had poured in front of her, and then winked.

 

“You have my word.”

 

With that, she vanished to the other end of the long, empty bar to punch the order in. Fallon wasn’t even sure why she’d bothered humouring her - talking to bartenders, at least sober, wasn’t really her brand. Michael had always been the exception, not the rule, but she seemed familiar, and just talking to her had already relaxed Fallon’s nerves a little.

 

Pulling the DVD case from her purse, she turned it over in her hands and sighed. It was blank, with the title in Times New Roman and some credentials listed on the back, capped off with a little, “for your consideration” message listed below. It felt surprisingly heavy in her hand, though, and Fallon was momentarily thankful that she’d at least have two hours of distraction that evening.

 

“Michael isn’t working tonight, is he?” Fallon asked when the bartender returned to continue loading the washer.

 

“Culhane? No.”  She fixed her with a small smile, but Fallon could see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to figure out if she was a familiar face or not. “I could tell him that you dropped by.”

 

“Sure, whenever you see him.” Fallon didn’t care either way, but she could see the way that the other woman’s features softened in relief at the lack of her own defensiveness. _Not a crazy ex,_ Fallon thought, _I promise._

 

Feeling too awkward to continue the small-talk conversation, she turned her attention back to her phone and scrolled aimlessly through her contacts as she tried to figure out what else to do with her day. Almost half of her contacts wouldn’t take a call from her this close to awards season, and most of the other half weren’t people she wanted to talk to, anyway. She scrolled past Kirby’s name, and reminded herself of their meeting later that evening. She didn’t know what to tell her about the film festival.

 

“Ooh, that’s not some big unreleased blockbuster, is it?” The bartender’s voice cut into her self-pitying and Fallon looked up, eyebrows raising in alarm.

 

“Sorry,” she continued. “I see a lot of those.” She nodded her chin toward the case in Fallon’s other hand, smiling hopefully. “Are you an agent?”

 

“Sort of,”  Fallon admitted easily. She didn't usually tell anyone about her line of work unless she was interested in working with them, already, but she could tell that the bartender wasn’t about to try to shove a demo reel at her, and felt safe divulging.

 

“That’s cool.”  She was easy to talk to, though, Fallon suspected that was probably more than half of the skill involved in bartending.  “Anyone I’d know?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She nodded to the case again. “The movie. Anyone I’d know?”

 

Fallon chuckled, tucking the case away back into her purse. “I can’t talk about it, unfortunately.”

 

“Ooh, sounds important.”

 

Fallon immediately realized that she reminded her of Kirby, and felt a swell of guilt in her chest, remembering the conversation they’d have to have later on.

 

“It might be,” she replied, smiling a little and then slugging back most of her glass of wine in a single gulp.

 

Her phone chirped in her hand and she jumped, glancing down at it.

 

 _[1:22PM] Jeff Colby: cristal was asking where you were, i told her you were busy. just didn’t want you to be blindsided if she calls._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thanks,_ she quickly typed back with one hand, putting her phone on vibrate mode before setting it facedown on the bar countertop next to her glass. It was nice of him to cover for her, but asking him for any kind of help always made her nervous.

 

Her appetizer came sooner than she expected, and she scrolled through emails and messages to keep herself distracted while she ate. Eating alone had never bothered her, but the way that people tried to start conversations with her out of pity when she did so always did.

 

The bar area grew busier as she ate - afternoon drink dates and early pre-movie appetizers seemed to be the idea of the hour, so Fallon finished quickly, paid, and made her way out to her parked car.

 

It was hotter than she remembered it being when she’d gone inside, so she rolled down her window and tossed her purse into the passenger seat as she waited for the air conditioning to kick in.

 

She still had a few hours to kill before she’d have to meet with Kirby, so heading back to her apartment seemed like the only option.

 

It felt weird, seeing it in such bright daylight, but as she tossed her keys into the bowl by the door and shrugged off her jacket, she immediately felt more relaxed. Sinking down into the cushions of her couch, Fallon let herself be still and unwind for just a moment before mentally mapping out the rest of her afternoon and evening. She was so comfortable that she almost considered just cancelling the meeting altogether, or having Kirby come to her, but the idea of someone else in her space - especially someone she was working with - made her skin crawl unpleasantly.

 

Her phone buzzed in her purse where she had abandoned it next to the couch, and she sat up, rolling onto her side to reach for it. The DVD case slid out along with her phone, and as she picked it up to shove it away again, she paused.

 

She _did_ have a little time to kill before she met with Kirby - if she didn’t make it completely through the movie, she would at least have a few talking points to convince Kirby she’d seen it.

 

Hauling herself up off of the couch and putting the disc in, Fallon nearly collapsed back into the couch and pulled the throw blanket folded on the back of it down over herself. She watched the opening director’s note, but barely listened, instead making sure that her phone was on vibrate and focusing on tucking herself as fully under the blanket as she could.

 

The movie opened with a spanning shot of a sea of pines. Impeccably scored music accompanied the first few minutes of scenery before ending on the starring man. In her career, Fallon had seen too many of these movies to count: gritty, artistic, and perfectly shot Oscar-bait features. She watched with half-interest, following the plot and dialogue without focusing too hard as she got up and wandered into her kitchen for a glass of wine.

 

Kirby’s voice jolted her attention back to the screen, and she quickly weaved around the island and back into the living room, careful not to spill her drink.

 

She was… serious. And _good_ . It was more discipline than Fallon had seen from her since meeting her. She read as an entirely different person than the easygoing, uncaring woman that she’d been working with -  though, Fallon supposed, that _was_ the point of acting.

 

She was completely sucked in, finishing her wine within the first half hour and not bothering to get up for a fresh top-up. She didn’t even have the energy to roll her eyes at the gratuitous violence of the shoot-out scene with the male lead and his supporting, too focused on every moment of what she was watching. There was a little excited tensing in her chest every time Kirby appeared, and she realized after the first hour and a half that it was… pride?

 

Fallon hadn’t necessarily meant to write her off as untalented, but the woman that was acting on the screen in front of her was a stranger. _Her_ Kirby was funny, if not annoying, but visibly nice, under the layers of sarcasm. _This_ Kirby was intense, and raw, and _maybe_ a little bit sexy.

 

“Oh my god,” Fallon breathed out loud, averting her eyes quickly when an argument between Kirby’s character and her co-star’s character lead into an intense kiss, followed by the redhead flinging her shirt off screen. As if anyone was around to witness it, Fallon blushed red immediately and shielded her eyes with one hand, taking the occasional glance up to see if the coast was clear while trying to block the obvious and surprisingly explicit sounds of the sex scene out of her mind.

 

When she was sure it was over, she tried to settle back into her spot on the couch, but she felt fidgety and nervous. They were both professionals - it was fine. She just hadn’t expected to see Kirby naked right before having to meet up with her again.

 

Her phone chirped a short while after, and she lifted it to squint at the screen tiredly.

 

_[4:33PM] Kirby Anders: still on for tonight?_

_[4:33PM] Kirby Anders: i have the photos from the stylist for premiere. want your opinion._

 

Fallon’s cheeks immediately turned hot again, but she shook the feeling away and quickly confirmed their plans, then double checked the time. She’d have to start getting ready quickly, and finish the movie when she got home later that night.

 

Freshening up and quickly heading back down to her car, she remembered the reason she’d gone home to hide out with a movie in the first place - the wedding.

 

She’d have to make it work. If she didn’t go with Kirby to the festival, someone else would, and she hated almost nothing more than having two trainers for the same show dog. Something pulled guiltily at her mind as soon as she had the thought. _She’s not a dog. She’s not a horse. She’s an actress. A_ good _one._

 

She double checked her notes in the car before starting it, making sure that she had all of the files she needed to go over with the other woman before the premiere. She could feel the consistent nervous energy in the other woman’s texts about it, and wanted to make sure she could be confident enough for the both of them. She hadn’t been to a premiere since the year before - and it had been a long year without.

 

Fallon felt giddy at the thought of seeing the other woman again. She was fairly easy as far as work-related tasks went, so usually Fallon didn’t dread their meetings anyway, but this was different, and she knew it. She squashed the excited feeling in her chest and willed herself to get a grip, pulling out of the parking lot and turning to head towards the restaurant. It was quiet for a few moments, but then, inspired, she flipped the radio on, and settled back into the driver’s side seat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter involves recreational hard drug use. One of the major points of the chapter will also be reiterated in the next chapter, as well, so if you'd like to skip this chapter for your own discretion, it should be easy to piece together the plot in the next one, without much issue.

“Hey, sorry, I don’t have long.” Kirby felt a little guilty for her less than friendly greeting, speeding up to Fallon’s table and throwing herself into the chair across from her. 

 

“You got a hot date or something?” 

 

Kirby watched as Fallon’s eyes took her in more clearly now that they were sitting together - watched the scrutiny on her face as she took her in her much heavier than usual makeup and the length of her skirt.

 

“Yeah, actually,” Kirby breathed, feeling her heart rate calming down now that she wasn’t rushing. “I was supposed to meet up with Alice  _ tomorrow _ but apparently she has some yacht party to go to and we moved drinks to tonight.”

 

“That doesn’t bode well for your future relationship, does it?” Fallon mocked, stirring the drink in front of herself and smirking. “Let me see the dresses.”

 

“The what?” Kirby frowned, before the lightbulb went off in her mind. “The premiere! Right!” Digging in her purse for her phone, she brought up the options she’d been sent onto the screen and handed it across the table to the other woman. 

 

Fallon flicked through them slowly, pursing her lips in concentration for a moment before handing the phone back.

 

“ _ Well _ ?”

 

“ _ Well, _ I think I’m not your stylist.”

 

“I know, I just wanted your opinion.”

 

“Then I’d skip the pantsuit.” 

 

Kirby glanced at her phone again, swiping the second option away from the slideshow and then setting it down facedown on the table between them.

 

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

 

“Right.” Fallon suddenly wouldn’t meet her eye, and Kirby felt a wave of nervous energy buzz over her skin, sending all of her hair on end. 

 

“Spit it out.”

 

“I just… have another engagement that’s come up during the first festival. But!” Seeming to sense Kirby’s sudden concern, she backpedalled. “I think I can still be there in person.”

 

Kirby couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “What’s the other thing?”

 

“My dad’s getting married.” Fallon flapped one hand dismissively, but Kirby still felt guilty for her own flippancy. “Don’t… get all doe-eyed at me. It’s not as big of a deal as it sounds. Honestly, even if we didn’t already have plans for the Hamptons, I’d still rather not go.”

 

“To your own dad’s wedding?” Kirby tried to clarify.

 

“Right. Alright, moving on from that, until I have a more concrete solution, why didn’t you tell me you were doing drinks  _ tonight?  _ She does know you’re not making a scene of this right now, right? Because making a scene is sort of her whole thing.”

 

“It’s just drinks. We’re going somewhere quiet, anyway. Promise.” Talking about it more and more was doing nothing but make Kirby nervous. 

 

“Jesus, I can feel your hands sweating from here.” Fallon winced, signalling their server over and ordering them both wine. “What are you, fourteen years old? Please get a grip.”

 

“Is you being cruel supposed to make me feel better in a  _ familiarity _ sort of way?” Kirby hissed, wiping her hands on her lap as subtly as possible. 

 

Fallon sighed.

 

“Fine. What do you want me to say? What would make you feel better?”

 

Kirby thought about it for a moment, but Fallon interrupted, sighing. 

 

“I’m  _ sorry _ , and your weird little fan-date is going to be  _ great,  _ and you’re going to fall in love, and have four hundred little artificially-inseminated babies, after getting married at the Hollywood event of the season. Better?”

 

“Why  _ four hundred  _ babies?” Kirby laughed, realizing how good it felt to have the tension cut so abruptly. 

 

“I think you’re getting hung up on the details,” Fallon insisted, sitting back in her seat as the two glasses of wine were placed in front of either of them by their server, who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. “We got you a much more reliable makeup artist for Saturday. Now you don’t need to have me drive you around.”

 

“I didn’t mind having you drive me around.”

 

“Boy, I did.” 

 

Kirby could tell she was serious, but her tone was gentle and playful enough that it didn’t come across as too cruel. Kirby wondered for a moment if she had any younger siblings. 

 

“Do I still get a coffee waiting for me?” She questioned.

 

Fallon chuckled. “Yes, as per our agreement, because you’re incapable of getting up and doing things at regular responsible-adult hours, we will get you coffee.” 

 

Letting the insult slide, Kirby picked up her own wine glass and took an experimental sip, followed by a much more generous one. She could feel it instantly smoothing out through her body, and relaxed into her seat. When she’d first heard about the change in schedule regarding Alice, she’d been set on edge; trying to picture balancing her busy evening out. Now that she was across from Fallon, she felt comfortable, and prepared for the night ahead. 

 

“So, at the risk of hearing some long-winded tragic backstory or finding out that you have a chewing-gum-and-used-water-bottle shrine in your closet or something, what’s the deal with this Alice Alby thing?” 

 

Kirby rolled her eyes at Fallon’s question.

 

“She’s pretty, and she seems interesting. Jesus, don’t you ever just… go out with people? Make friends, even?”

 

Fallon bristled visibly at that, and Kirby realized she may have taken a step too far.

 

“I’m in a relationship with my career.”

 

“Oh, gross.” Kirby laughed outright, watching the blush heat the other woman’s face, visible even in the low lighting of the lounge. 

 

“Don’t try it,” Fallon warned. “If I wasn’t, you’d be floundering through shitty interviews and film festivals,  _ alone _ , so,  _ you’re welcome. _ ” 

 

Kirby bowed slightly in thanks, lifting her glass in an air-cheers before taking another sip.

 

The answer  _ had  _ been a little eye-opening, though. Kirby hadn’t really thought about it before, but now trying to picture Fallon with a boyfriend seemed foreign. She couldn’t imagine the sarcastic, business-driven woman across from her eating takeout in a shared apartment or going out to cocktail parties with a man on her arm, introducing him as hers, or the two of them having a group of other married friends to socialize with. 

 

“What time’s your date, then?” Fallon’s voice snapped her out of her train of thought, and she looked up in surprise before glancing at her phone screen.

 

“Soon. I need to get a car. D’you know where…” Kirby checked her texts, frowning in concentration, “ _ The Burrow  _ is?”

 

Fallon snorted into her glass.

 

“Yeah, I know the place. Don’t -” she reached over and startled Kirby by lowering her phone for her. “I’ll drive you. Just this once. I’m going that way, anyway.”

 

“Oh!” Kirby couldn’t keep the surprise out of her tone. “Thank you, that’s -”

 

“Never happening again,” Fallon finished for her, finishing off her glass of wine and setting it down.

 

Kirby rushed to catch up to her, and then dug around in her clutch, tossing a few crumpled bills down and then flattening them to make sure it was the right amount.

 

“No, I’ve got it.” She waved Fallon’s own money away, tucking the bills under her empty glass and pushing back her seat to stand up. “Consider it gas money.”

 

Fallon stared at her for a moment as if she’d grown another head, then led them both out of the lounge and into the warm evening breeze outside.

 

* * *

 

 

After Fallon had kicked her out of the car before she had a chance to change her mind about the date altogether, Kirby stood outside of stairs down to  _ The Burrow  _ and wrung her hands together nervously. 

She did feel genuinely excited, but the paranoid thoughts of being stood up or it going poorly continued to creep into her mind. Closing her eyes and forcing herself to dive in, she made her way in and took a moment to adjust her eyes - for the  second time that night - to the abruptly dark lighting of the bar. 

She expected to be the first one there. She was on time, after all, and Fallon’s general visualization that she’d planted in Kirby’s brain about what sort of person Alice was had made her think she’d be late, regardless. Instead, however, the singer was leaned against the short bar, talking to and laughing with the bartender. The wave of nervousness that hit her next was different from the earlier trepidation. No longer feeling pre-blind-date jitters, Kirby felt her legs turn to jelly in the same familiar way that they had when she’d accidentally run into Blake Lively in the middle of the street the first week that she’d moved in. It wasn’t  _ meeting a girl  _ nerves, these were  _ meeting a celebrity  _ nerves, and she realized quickly how to stop them.

_ I am a celebrity,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Well. Almost. _

She strode over as confidently as she could, clearing her throat.

“Hey, Alice? I’m -”

The shorter of the two women whirled around, looking almost startled for a moment before realizing she wasn’t being approached by a complete stranger, and then lighting up.

“Kirby! Hi!” 

She immediately went in for a hug, slipping her arms around the redhead’s waist like she’d known her for years. 

“Oh my god, you’re  _ so  _ tall. I’m jealous.  _ Let’s sit!”  _  The singer hopped up and grabbed her hand and pulled her away, weaving between a couple of tables and immediately making herself comfortable on a couch placed near the stone fireplace. 

Kirby felt calm and relaxed in comparison to the woman across from her.

“When is your movie coming out? Jeff said there’s no trailer yet, but I checked anyway.”

“Oh,” Kirby hummed, racking her brain for a moment. There had been so much happening over the last short period of time that some days she could barely figure out which  way was up. “The trailer is out in a couple of days.”

Alice stared at her, visibly hanging onto her every word. It felt like she had known her for a while, now that they were sitting together and talking. Kirby appreciated the other woman’s ability to make her feel so comfortable and important at the same time so quickly. 

“Are you nervous? I’d be so nervous. I tried to the acting thing but I’m  _ really  _ more into music, y’know? But I’m sure you’re going to be amazing. What do you drink?”

Kirby paused, processing the three different categories of discussion that Alice had ripped through in a single breath before answering.

“I’m not really picky. Nothing fancy-”

“The punch bowls are  _ amazing _ , d’you wanna split one?”

Kirby smiled a tiny bit, taking the suggestion. 

“Sure.”

Practically shoving an open menu at her, Alice’s face lit up. 

“You can pick which one. I’ve had them all. Where’s your accent from? Australia?”

Kirby dropped her eyes to the menu and found the list of punch bowls.  _ $65 each. _ Huh.

“Yeah, yeah, Australia.” She said quickly, realizing she hadn’t answered the woman’s question yet. 

“That’s dope, I love kangaroos.”

Kirby immediately thought of Fallon, and grinned to herself, but shook her head. 

“You wouldn’t like them if you met one.”

Alice grinned at her, leaning back on the couch a little and giving her a better once over. She felt suddenly squirmy, the comfort that had been settling in over her vanishing and making way for jittery giddiness. 

“D’you have anywhere to be tomorrow?” Alice asked.

Kirby’s eyebrows shot upward before she could stop herself or control her shocked expression, making the other woman laugh.

“That… isn’t what I meant. I just wanted to know how fucked up you wanted to get.” 

Before Kirby could even process what she was being asked, their server appeared. 

“Did you pick?” Alice’s eyes were intensely locked onto Kirby’s when she caught her gaze, and she felt suddenly flustered.

“Uh, no, you can -”

“Can we do  _ punch bowl number one _ ?” Alice didn’t even hesitate, turning to look up at their server and batting her eyes as she held the menu up to him.

“Sorry, you need four people to order the -”

“Oh, we have two more coming. They should be here in a minute. Please?” 

The server sighed, fixing Alice with a knowing look before taking the menu from her and shaking his head.

“Just this once.”

She squealed happily, clapping and sitting up in her seat a little more before turning to Kirby again.

“He’s the best,” she gushed as their server weaved back away from their secluded spot. “So, sorry. Anywhere to be?”

Kirby shook her head.

“Nope, finally a day off tomorrow. This actually worked out perfectly.”

“I love serendipity.” Alice smiled, leaning back in her seat and regarding Kirby curiously again. She already seemed to be slowing down a little - it made Kirby wonder if she’d been just as nervous as she was to begin with. The very idea made her instantly feel at ease again, and she cleared her throat as she leaned closer to fill some of the space between the two of them.

  
“I’m glad this worked out. It’s  _ really _ cool to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Within the hour the two women found themselves halfway through their shared punch bowl, knee to knee and giggling hysterically as they tried to keep their volume under control and not annoy the others around them.

“Seriously, you  _ need  _ to meet them.” Alice was trying to form the words around her laughter, fighting through it to finish her story about a handful of the dancers from her last tour. “Funniest girls I’ve ever met.”

“I’d love to.” Kirby grinned easily, reaching for another drink. 

She felt confident, and excited at the potential of new friendship. For the first time since she’d moved, she had finally made another industry friend that she didn’t feel like she needed to make herself smaller around. She loved all of her friends, but even she could feel the distance starting to peg its way between her and them now that her career had started to pick up speed. There were only so many times that she could change the subject away from what she was doing with Fallon, and work, so that one of her other friends didn’t feel bitter over still working an evening job between unsuccessful auditions. 

Alice refilled her own drink. She was drinking twice as fast as Kirby, and the redhead was shocked that she didn’t seem more drunk given how much smaller she was. Chalking it up to a difference in tolerance, Kirby watched as she slugged back most of her refill in a few quick gulps.

“You wanna get out of here after this?”

“Yeah,” Kirby answered, not giving herself too much time to think. She felt wide awake, and realized that for the first time in a long time, she had both the financial freedom and open schedule to do whatever she wanted. It sent a bright thrill up her spine, and she giddily crushed the entire drink in front of her before asking “Where would we go?” 

“We could go back to mine,” Alice suggested, refilling both her own drink and Kirby’s. “You could meet some of my friends, if you wanted to.”

Kirby was only vaguely aware of the time, but knew it was late enough. Still, she nodded.

“That sounds really fun.”

“Oh, it will be.” Alice winked at her, then collapsed into giggling as she handed her the glass once more. The punch bowl was beginning to run dangerously low. 

“The bottom is all ice, trust me,” Alice continued, and as Kirby stretched her legs out in front of herself, she realized for the first time just how physically drunk she was beginning to feel. It was pleasant, though. She felt free. 

Kirby reached for her bag, fumbling with the zipper for a moment, but Alice stopped her when she spoke again.

“Oh, girl. I paid it already, when you were in the bathroom.” She smiled brightly, then reached into her own bag to fish around for a moment. “So, don’t get weird on me if the answer is no, but you seem cool. You wanna do something fun?”

Kirby set her own bag down, ready to answer with a careful  _ What did you have in mind?,  _ but when she looked up, her question had already been answered. Alice held out a tiny ziploc bag, and Kirby squinted in the low lighting to make out the form of a few tiny yellow pills.

“ _ Oh _ .”

“Red dragonflies are supposed to be the whole new thing, but I always liked Bart Simpsons better. Maybe it’s sentimental; they were what I had the first time I rolled. You want?”

Alice fished one of the pills out of the bag and then offered it across the couch.

“‘S’is ecstasy?” She took the bag carefully, lowering it to her lap to keep it out of eye line from anyone nearby who may have turned to catch a glance. 

“Yes ma’am.” Alice swayed in her seat a little, reaching for her half-empty glass and tossing the pill back without hesitation, washing it down quickly. 

Kirby turned the bag over in her hands for a moment before fishing another pill out herself. The cartoonish face of Bart Simpson stared up at her, and she was reminded of a children’s chewable multi-vitamin. She hadn’t done MDMA since high school, and never a mixture. 

Alice texted away as she waited for Kirby’s decision.

“Limo will be here soon. D’you want to come with?” 

Tossing the pill back before she could let herself think any harder, Kirby sloshed back most of her drink and went to hand the bag back to Alice, but she wasn’t looking. Tucking it in her own pocket for safe keeping, Kirby stood up and beamed. 

“Yeah, let’s go. I need a smoke, let’s wait outside.”

Alice followed her happily, and the two of them bumped awkwardly into one another as they half-drunkenly made their way up the stairs and out to the curb. Kirby immediately turned around and wandered to the nearest wall to smoke when she spotted a few fans nearby that wanted to talk to the singer, not wanting to get in the way or have to answer any questions. She watched from a distance as she took photos and hugged strangers as if she’d known them forever, laughing loudly at their comments and drunkenly stumbling back and forth between them. 

She was sweet, Kirby had decided. A little much to handle, maybe, but nothing like the person that Fallon had made her sound like. 

“Sorry,” Alice huffed, making her way back over to Kirby and smiling breathlessly. The redhead offered her the cigarette but she waved it away, gesturing to her throat wordlessly as she pulled out her phone.

_ Right _ .  _ Singer.  _

“Okay. Do you have everything?” 

“I think so.” Kirby glanced down at herself, then back up, confused for a moment. “Where’d you say you lived?”

“ _ Sierra Towers,” _ Alice huffed, smiling a little and then rubbing her palms against her shirt. “God, I’m already out of breath. You feeling anything?”

Kirby shook her head, taking inventory for a moment. She felt a little drunk, maybe. Giddy about the night ahead and slightly unfocused, but definitely not high. Maybe it had been a dud. 

The limo pulled up sharply behind Alice, and Kirby felt her jaw drop slightly at the sight of it. It was easily one of the longest stretch limos she’d ever seen in her life, and the anti-spinning rims on the wheels kept them weighted in place and made it look like it was gliding on ice up to the curb. The driver made himself useful quickly, rushing around the car to them both and holding open the door so that they could climb inside. The interior only served to outdo the exterior, with low pink mood lighting illuminating the ceiling and floors, creating a smooth path to the clear champagne fridge below the partition. 

Kirby moved to stomp out her cigarette, but Alice waved her down to stop.

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it, you can smoke in here. Come on.”

The driver closed the door and Kirby quickly rolled down her nearest window, leaning toward it with her cigarette. She thought of Fallon, and her car, and then felt an immediate punch of guilt to her gut as she thought about what Fallon would think of the turn that her evening had taken. 

A flood of loud and abrupt music filling the car’s cabin startled Kirby out of her pity-party, and she glanced over to see Alice fiddling with the speaker closest to her. 

“Ooh, yes, I  _ love  _ this song.” 

The lights suddenly dimmed, and the only source left was the pink, warm glow of the strips of LEDs. Kirby focused her eyes on the other woman, dancing in her seat with her eyes closed, and suddenly felt giggly and overwhelmed with affection. 

She scooted closer down the bench she was sitting on, and took another drag of her cigarette as she watched Alice. 

Suddenly opening her eyes, and grinning in a half-darkness at the redhead, Alice twitched her eyebrows and then burst into giggles. “Feeling it, now?”

“A little bit, I think,” Kirby admitted, not realizing that she’d pressed her knee to Alice’s until she spoke. She flung the rest of her cigarette out the window. “I’m going to quit smoking.”

Alice laughed, and even though it hadn’t been a joke, Kirby did too. 

“If I didn’t need my… y’know. Lungs and throat to make a living, and I also like, knew I couldn’t die? I’d start smoking,” Alice mused, grabbing a water bottle from the door and handing one to Kirby as well.

Kirby snorted, taking the bottle. 

“That’s a lot of added variables.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Alice smiled at her easily, settling comfortably in her seat again. 

Kirby rolled the bottle of water between her hands slowly, focusing on the feeling of it under her fingers. Cold - she felt like she was drinking it already just by hanging onto it; the label crinkled under her fingers and she slowly started to peel it away, trying to leave as little residue on the bottle as possible. 

“Are you going to drink that?” Alice’s question made her look up, to see that the singer had already finished most of her own bottle. 

“I’m… unwrapping it… first?” Kirby’s statement came out as a question, and the words felt strange leaving her mouth.  _ Unwrapping. Weird word. Is that a word? _

“Dude, you are high as hell.” 

Kirby laughed - laughing felt considerably better than talking did. Just as weird, but the more giggles that poured out of her, the fuzzier and warmer she felt, as if she was wrapping herself up in a blanket that was freshly out of the dryer. 

“You’re  _ still  _ not drinking the water!  _ Girl!”  _ Alice joined in her giggling, flopping sideways in her seat and squeezing her eyes shut as Kirby finally opened the bottle and sipped from it carefully.

Colors actually danced behind her eyelids as she closed them, and it took her a moment to realize that she had been holding her breath and not just experiencing some sort of celestial connection with the drink in her hands. She’d never realized how _ good _ water was before. She needed more of it. Closing the cap again, she reached around and grabbed her phone, fiddling with it clumsily to open the text editor, and typed in ‘ _ buy a case of bottled water’ _ . There. Something important to look back on in the morning. 

“Oh, we’re here.” 

Kirby didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she reached for her water bottle to bring it with her, it was almost empty. Dropping it to the floor of the limo and following Alice as she climbed out of the open door, Kirby followed her out onto the street and into the massive, shining building they’d parked in front of.

More people stopped Alice, and Kirby felt a sudden pang of fear pass over her as she watched them pull out phones, begging for photos, but the doorman came to her rescue and led her inside to wait while Alice talked to her fans once again. 

“Going up?” He asked.

“Hm? Oh, I should - I’m just going to wait, for her.” Kirby gestured loosely with one arm, watching the motion of it and then repeated it once again to make sure she’d seen it correctly. She could feel all of the blood in her arm flood to the tips of her fingers. Her hands tingled and she squeezed them both into fists to try to dissolve the sensation. 

The door man regarded her curiously.  _ Whoops _ . 

Alice suddenly appeared next to her, linking arms with her and then leading her toward the elevator. 

“You’re not allergic to dogs or anything, right?”

Kirby shook her head.

“Good. I don’t have any. But my friend sometimes brings his over and I don’t get the hair cleaned up as often as I should. I didn’t want you to have to snort a line of smashed up Benadryl in the bathroom, or something.”

Kirby giggled as the elevator opened, taking a huge step over the tiny gap to get inside. 

“Why wouldn’t I just… take the Benadryl normally?”

“To make it work faster,  _ duh!”  _ Alice nudged her softly with her elbow and she swayed on the spot, smiling over at her. She was  _ really  _ pretty. Kirby could’ve stared at the angles of her face for hours if it wouldn’t make her look strange. Her smile and her dimples made Kirby feel suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her, but she didn’t.  _ And she was so nice, _ Kirby reminded herself.  _ Fuck the tabloids. She’d stopped twice that night alone to talk to fans. _

“Oh, holy shit.” The words fell out of Kirby’s mouth before she could stop them once the elevator doors opened. The penthouse was easily larger than the house she’d grown up in. Sprawling up and down mini-levels, sleek hardwood covered the ground they stood on, leading off to a conversation pit, a fireplace, and what looked like a kitchen the size of her own apartment. 

“Momma’s home!” Alice announced, letting go of Kirby and wandering toward the pit of cushions nearby. It was only then that Kirby realized they weren’t alone. 

Music poured from what felt like every corner of the room, loudly enough that Kirby wouldn’t have gotten away with it in her own place, but just softly enough that everyone could still talk. She followed Alice slowly, suddenly feeling like a nervous little kid, and sunk down into the cushions beside her. 

“Kirby, this is Alex, and Matt, and Leigh.”

“Hey,” Kirby had no clue which name went with which face, but smiled anyway. “Nice to meet you.”

“I like your accent.” The only other woman there spoke, pushing her sunglasses up further on her face despite the only source of light in the entire apartment coming from the kitchen, which felt like a hundred feet away. Between Leigh ( _ or was it Lee?)  _ and Alex, Kirby tried to figure out who exactly she was talking to. 

“Oh, thank you. Sorry, it was… Leigh?”

The girl chuckled. “Matt.”

“Oh.” Kirby didn’t get a chance to apologize or mend the situation before the woman turned away as she was handed a hose to the hookah that was resting between the group, so the redhead turned her attention back to Alice, who was busy talking to the other two men.

Momentarily alone with her thoughts, Kirby rubbed her hands down her bare legs and let herself focus on feeling every single part of the sensation. Her legs looked almost too pale in comparison to the other people around her. Stretching them out in front of herself, she realized that they looked too long, too, but before she could spiral into a pit of self-doubt, she felt the stretch move through the muscles of her calves, and up behind her knees, then groaned happily.  _ Why didn’t she stretch more often? Stretching was the greatest. _

“What’re you doing?” Alice’s voice snapped her out of it, yet again. Kirby looked up and grinned nervously, dropping her legs back down in front of herself and blushing. Alice’s own grin slowly spread across her face, and she reached for Kirby’s hand, clutching it in her own as she laid back against the cushions as if they were a bed. 

Brushing her thumb over the back of Alice’s hand, Kirby let herself relax a little more, enjoying the feeling of the thudding bass from the music pushing against her back through the muffling of the pillows. She needed one of these in her own apartment. 

“I heard that if you stretch your back and crack it while you’re rolling, you can drain all of your spinal fluid and  _ die. _ ” 

_ Okay, Matt was a little bit of a bad time,  _ Kirby thought.

“That’s a myth,” one of the men crowed back. Kirby still didn’t know if it was Leigh or Alex. “What is this, freshman year of high school? Get real.”

“Don’t be a prick!” Kirby heard Matt snap back, but the three of them laughed, and Kirby felt the tiny smile on her face growing bigger at the sound of it. _ It was nice _ , she thought,  _ how they were comfortable joking with each other like that _ . 

_ Not like Fallon who was just mean without the joking part. _

_ Whoa. _

_ Where did  _ that  _ come from? _

Sitting up abruptly, Kirby felt the room spin a little and she blinked a few times to steady her vision. Alice stared up at her from where she was still laying down, frowning in concern.

“Is everything okay? Do you need more water?”

“I think… I need to pee.”

Stumbling to her feet and finding her balance, she climbed out of the pit as well as she could without flashing any of her new friends in her skirt, and heard one of the men call after her,  _ “Try not to enjoy it too much!”  _

“Oh my  _ god,” _ Alice whined back, “That was  _ one  _ time, let it  _ go!”  _

Shutting herself in the bathroom, Kirby was vacuumed into silence for a moment before taking in the sight of the giant, black-tile walls and unnecessarily vaulted ceilings of the room. Across from the door sat a huge clawfoot tub - vintage looking, too. It must’ve cost a fortune. 

Her own reflection didn’t startle her as much as she expected it to. Her makeup had miraculously remained mostly intact, with only her lipstick beginning to fade - probably from all of the drinking. She realized that she didn’t have her purse, and took a moment to think about where it was before deciding that the worry wasn’t worth it, and simply smudging the lipstick that she still had on around until it looked more natural. 

She didn’t need to pee, it turned out. But she did need to climb into the claw foot tub -  _ just for a second -  _ and see what it was like. 

  
It was, it turned out, exceptionally comfortable. She wished she had her phone on hand, because ‘ _ replace bed with claw foot tub’  _ was a note that she desperately needed to make.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby was convinced that she was paralyzed when she woke up.

Moving to sit up in the tub sent such a sharp pain down her back that she wasn’t sure she could actually get out and move on with her life. She dramatically pictured being airlifted out of the penthouse through the giant sunroof above her head. 

Her head pounded and her eyes watered before she realized just how freezing cold she was. Squinting at the end of the tub, she realized that her ankles and feet were in a puddle of water; her shoes soaked through. She must’ve bumped the tap in the middle of the night. 

On the count of three, after a deep breath to brace herself, Kirby gripped the sides of the tub and hauled herself up, wincing in pain and taking a moment to herself before standing up and shakily climbing out, careful not to slip in her wet, squeaking shoes on the impossibly gleaming floors. 

_ Alright _ , first things first: her phone. It was probably dead, so finding it, and Alice, to get a charge, would be her first priority. She was sure she’d left it in her purse, so finding that would be the place to start. 

Kirby made her way out of the bathroom quietly, and was greeted with a much more well-lit version of the penthouse that she’d been introduced to the night before. Past the impossibly large balcony patio outside of the floor to ceiling windows along the opposite wall, a grey sky greeted her, and Kirby felt immediately comfortable, and relieved. Her favourite hangover weather. 

Still, she didn’t feel all that terrible, like she anticipated that she would. A little dehydrated, sure, but apart from the physical strain of accidentally sleeping in a bathtub, she felt good enough to start her day. 

Alice was nowhere to be found, but one of the men from the evening before was sleeping - or dead, it was hard to tell given how still he was - on the cushion conversation pit, wrapped in a fur throw blanket. 

Making her way down the hallway to the short staircase, Kirby climbed as silently as she could, and nudged open the first still-cracked door that she saw. Luckily, Alice was asleep alone, passed out fully clothed on top of what Kirby assumed was her bed. 

“Hey,” she stage-whispered. “You asleep?”

Alice rolled over with a little groan, and Kirby stepped a little closer, gently touching her arm.

“Hey. Alice. I need to take off. D’you know where my phone is?”

“Limo,” the singer grunted into the pillow, not lifting her head.

“Oh, okay, well, I’m just going to grab it. Call me if you find my purse?”

“Limo’s not here,” Alice sighed, rolling onto her back and finally opening her eyes for a second before wincing and closing them. “Oh god. I’m still drunk.”

Before Kirby could get another word in, the other woman burrowed herself into the duvet and pulled it up over her head, leaving the redhead alone to decide her next move. 

She couldn’t call an Uber without her phone, and without her wallet, it was risky to try to take a cab to any of her friends houses - she had no idea which of them would be out, or at work, and didn’t know anyone who would be able to leave their job to come out and cover what could possibly end up being a huge cab fare for her. 

_ Fallon basically lives at work. _

She squashed the thought before she could let herself dwell on it.  _ Absolutely not. _

Heading to the elevator and making her way back out from the lobby and into the street, cashless and without a phone, Kirby took a moment to get her bearings. Her cigarettes, at least, were mercifully still in her jacket pocket, and after scaring some passersby (likely due to the fact that she hadn’t checked what the state of her makeup from the night before had done to her face before leaving) into letting her borrow a lighter, she took another moment to weigh her options. 

She was nowhere near anything she knew or recognized - she hadn’t done much exploring since moving - but she could see a few cabs idling up the road, and made her way towards them. 

Fallon really would have to be her safety net, yet again. She could already imagine the nagging tone that she’d use when she begrudgingly helped Kirby get home, and considered whether practicing some counter-arguments or just giving in to being lectured would be a better idea. 

“I need the Carrington PR building, it’s on -”

Kirby was barely in the car before the driver cut her off.

“I know the place.” 

Used to the good-review-hungry  _ Uber  _ drivers that she normally utilized, the sharp tone from the clearly exhausted driver in the front seat almost startled her. Still, she couldn’t blame him - she was feeling a little rough herself - so she just sunk back into her seat and stared out the window, looking for something familiar. 

The ride was shorter than she expected, and as she patted down her pockets, some of her best acting lately, pretending to find her wallet, she sighed.

“Hey, I’m just going to run in here, I’ll get some cash. Keep the meter running.”

Before the driver could protest, she ran into the building, rushing up to the counter and tapping on the granite impatiently before the receptionist looked up.

“I need Fallon Carrington.”

The receptionist took one long, disgusted look at Kirby, then raised an eyebrow, before her lip curled. 

“I can see that.”

Kirby rolled her eyes, snapping, “Can you please call her?”

“Ms. Carrington isn’t in today.”

“Cristal, then?”

“Which Cristal?” The receptionist looked much more amused than impatient. She was clearly enjoying watching the actress flounder on the spot as she tried desperately to remember from their emails. The one time that someone had been friendly enough to start their professional relationship off with their actual first name, and it was doing more harm than good.

“Kirby Anders?”

Kirby recognized the voice, but it felt different. Looking up, she saw the face of a man she didn’t recall ever meeting, striding towards her from the bank of elevators. He stopped next to the desk and smiled at her, before chuckling to himself.

“I guess we haven’t actually met. I’m Jeff Colby.”

He stuck his hand out, and after a moment, the gears in her head clicked into place and she gasped, grabbing his hand quickly to shake it.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” 

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Actually,” Kirby glanced back out the windows at the cab, still idling in the loading zone. “I sort of… need some cab fare. I was looking for Fallon, she owes me one.”

She didn’t, but Kirby figured that given how Fallon had described Jeff, they weren’t close enough that one of them would be fact-checking Kirby’s claim. 

“Oh, of course.” Jeff took her by the elbow, leading her back toward the door. “Long night? You met up with Alice, right?”

Kirby felt immediately insecure in her appearance all over again.

“Uh, yeah, I sort of lost my phone and wallet.” As soon as she said the words aloud, she realized that even if Alice did find her purse, she had no way of calling her to let her know.

“Well, where’d you see them last?” Jeff paid the driver and stepped back as he pulled away from the curb, turning to look at Kirby again.

“I think I might’ve left my bag at the bar. Alice said my phone is still in her limo, though, which isn’t getting back until later tonight.”

“Hm,” Jeff shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels for a moment. “I could take you to find your bag, if you wanted. I was about to get out of here, anyway.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Kirby had been spending enough time with Fallon, who was exceptionally good at making every service she provided feel like a favour, not part of her job, and it still surprised her whenever other members of the firm made the effort to keep her comfortable. 

“Yeah, you guys were at  _ The Burrow _ , right? The owner’s a friend of mine. We can go check it out.”

“I’d… really appreciate that, thank you. I feel like I’m not going to be able to relax until I’m all back in one piece, honestly.”

Jeff led her back inside, toward the elevators again - this time, heading down.

“So I heard you might be out a chaperone for the Hamptons festival.” Jeff held an arm out for Kirby to step in ahead of him, following her and hitting the ‘close door’ button quickly. 

Kirby took a moment to realize what he was talking about. Her brain still felt a little fuzzy from the evening before.

“Right. Well, Fallon said she might have a wedding to go to, but she said she’d make it work.” She hoped her voice sounded more calm than pathetically optimistic. Remembering that there was a slim chance Fallon wouldn’t be joining her made her feel nervous all over again.

“I’m sure she’ll do her best. But, with Blake involved, who knows.” Jeff was smirking now, but not looking at her. He glanced at Kirby, catching what must’ve been a confused look on her face, then supplied, “ _ Her dad.” _

“Ohhh.” Kirby waved a hand. “I’m not worried either way. These things have a way of working out.”

She was completely pulling the words out of her ass, but she could sense the competition in the air between Jeff and Fallon, even though Fallon wasn’t with them.

“Well, you know my number if you need someone to fill in.” Jeff suggested, stepping out into the parking garage when the elevator doors slid open, leading her off to his car without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

Dropping Kirby off with a short, and definitely  _ not  _ sweet pep talk, Fallon headed towards her own apartment in uncomfortable silence. She had expected her drinks with the other woman to last a little longer than they had, and now that she was completely alone again, she felt fidgety and restless. She didn’t want to go home and be alone yet, but it was too strange of an hour to try to make any last minute plans with Monica. Remembering that the unfinished movie that she’d left paused on her TV was waiting for her perked her up a little - she could have a bit of a distraction before crawling off into bed and getting an early night’s sleep to prepare for a productive work-free day to follow. 

 

She mentally inventoried what was left in her wine fridge, and tried to decide what she’d do for dinner while she drove. Being alone had more pros than cons, she reminded herself, beginning to feel better already. 

 

The cool air of her apartment welcomed her with open arms, and as she kicked off her heels and made her way up to her bedroom to change into something more comfortable for her movie night, Fallon double checked her emails and texts to make sure she could afford to unplug and take a few hours for herself. 

 

Fixing a glass of wine and bringing the bottle with her, Fallon got comfortable on her couch in her pajamas and turned the movie back on, curling up cozily and settling in. It felt strange, at first, to see Kirby on-screen having  _ just  _ left her at the bar, but she grew used to it; her brain quickly separating movie-Kirby from real-Kirby. 

 

On the screen across from her, Kirby, red-faced and hair immaculately tousled, delivered some important line of plot-defining dialogue that Fallon almost missed, pausing the movie before deciding to backtrack and rewatch the last few minutes from before she’d left her place earlier to refresh her memory. As she rewound, she was instantly reminded of the scene that she’d been working hard to forget, wincing a little and deciding that perhaps now that she wasn’t going to be blindsided by it, she could watch it properly. 

 

Bracing herself, she hit  _ play _ . 

 

The sounds of Kirby’s panting and moaning mixed in with the movie’s score immediately filled her living room, but Fallon resisted the urge to skip the part. She’d walked in on clients bare-naked and sprawled out, coked out, on bathroom floors before. This was just a movie, and there was no reason for it to set off her panic reflex any more than anything else in her career had. 

 

She insisted to herself that she was being a professional by watching it so much more intensely this time around, but as the scene went on, and then passed, she found herself almost reaching for the remote to rewind it again. It wasn’t about Kirby, and she could recognize that, but it reminded her that it  _ had  _ been a while. The loneliness of the evening wasn’t helping, either.

 

She thought about what Kirby had asked her earlier. 

 

_ Don’t you ever just… go out with people? Make friends, even? _

 

Frowning to herself and pausing the movie again, Fallon reached for her phone, but before she could make any bad decisions for herself, it rang in her hands. 

 

“Fallon Carrington,” she answered.

 

“Michael Culhane.” His voice was mocking, but gentle. It immediately made her smile in spite of herself. “I heard I missed you today.”

 

“I heard you were off today.” Fallon stretched out on the couch, reaching for her wine glass again.

 

“I went in to pick up my tip-out, and they told me some hot and scary little thing was snooping around, asking about me. I knew it had to be you.”

 

Fallon laughed, narrowing her eyes even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

 

“Must’ve been your other favourite customer.”

 

“You know you’re my one and only.”

 

Fallon chewed her cuticle for a moment, humming into the receiver.

 

“I wanted to make it up to you,” Michael added, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I thought we could get a drink. Tonight.”

 

Fallon genuinely considered, for a moment, then sighed.

 

“I’m already at home and settled in.”

 

“Another time, then.” Michael’s voice was light - disappointed, but optimistic. 

 

“Wait,” Fallon stopped him before he could hang up. “I’m just… watching a movie. Maybe you could come over here.”

 

“Oh, yeah, so we could watch it together?” he asked knowingly.

 

“Something like that.” Fallon sat up and threw back the last few sips of her wine, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb. “Are you nearby?”

 

“I can be there soon. I’ll call you when I’m downstairs.”

 

With that, he hung up, and left Fallon to a moment of silent contemplation before she got up and scrambled to tidy the living room.

 

* * *

 

 

One of the biggest downsides to inviting  _ anyone -  _ men, women, coworkers, friends, whatever - into her apartment, was inevitably being at their mercy of deciding when to take the hint and leave. 

Stretching out as slowly and quietly as possible, Fallon glanced at the man sleeping next to her, and then slid out of the bed as sneakily as she could. She usually reserved her shower routine for after her space had been vacated, but today it was a tool to have a few moments alone before she had to kick Michael out. 

It was too early for her to be awake on a day off. She wasn’t usually one for sleeping in, but her plans  _ had  _ been to watch a movie and polish off a bottle of wine the night before. Now, though, instead of reading the paper in bed and enjoying her coffee slowly, she was awake and rushing around just before 6 o’ clock, just like any other day of the week. 

Michael was awake by the time she left the shower, and had already made them each a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning.” His eyes raked over her and she clutched her towel a little tighter to herself, unable to keep the hint of a smile from crossing her face.

“Good morning to you too, you lose your shirt?” She nodded at him, reaching out with one hand to take the mug from him.

Michael glanced down at himself and shrugged as he stepped closer to her.

“Must have. Maybe I could borrow your towel in the meantime.”  With one arm he reached out and wrapped his hand around her waist, pulling her a little closer and working his fingers into the opening of it slowly. 

Fallon chuckled, setting her mug down on the closest counter and catching his hand with her own, pushing it away softly.

“Actually,” she started, slowly, “you’d better go look for it. I have to be at the office soon.”

“That’s a shame,” Michael hummed, stepping back and sipping his coffee. “I don’t want to make you late, though.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, wandering up the stairs to the bedroom again and leaving her alone with her thoughts once more. 

She didn’t have any regrets, but inviting him to her own place was a mistake she usually didn’t make. It had been out of loneliness, and boredom, and any other day she would have been smart enough to go out with him and then follow  _ him  _ home instead. She liked his place, actually. His bed was comfortable and his kitchen always smelled great, and it was a few degrees too cold for her to be tempted to linger around in the mornings. 

Fallon waited until he was dressed and on his way out her door before getting ready herself. It was almost tempting to get back into bed, but she had already showered and finished an espresso - she knew her body was ready to start the day, even if her mind wasn’t. 

With her makeup on and her hair done, and nowhere to be, she got comfortable on her couch and switched on the television, remembering that she had once again failed to actually finish watching  _ Splintered Men _ . 

“Third time’s the charm,” she thought out loud to herself, starting it over and sitting back against the cushions. With no loneliness, wine, or even upcoming meetings to distract her this time, Fallon watched everything, taking in more detail than the previous two attempts at watching, and found herself completely sucked in.

Kirby had completely won her over.

It was a wonder she hadn’t done anything noteworthy before, or even since - though Fallon could guess that the latter had to do with how exhausted she must have been from this shoot. Mentally, she chided herself for being on the other woman’s case so much. Her complaints about having to keep up with early call-times even though she was wrapped made a little more sense, now, given how intense the movie was even just for her, as a viewer.

She watched the entire movie from beginning to end without a single pause, only getting up once it ended to order food, then went back to rewatch parts that she’d liked. She realized, when she rewatched the sex scene (and she had a perfectly good excuse, she thought she’d seen a hint of a tattoo and needed a better look), that she was going overboard. No one in the Academy would even be watching as intently as she had been. 

When her food arrived, she watched the news instead, and a shaky video of Alice Alby walking into  _ The Burrow  _ the night before reminded Fallon about the date. Scrolling her phone and creeping through various social media feeds, she kept an eye out for any sign of anything going wrong - any photos of the two of them, any unfortunate incidents in the bar, or elsewhere - but found nothing. Kirby had kept up her end of the deal.

_ ‘I keep all of my promises.’  _ She immediately heard Kirby’s voice in her mind - a line from the movie she’d just obsessively picked apart over multiple watches - and shook her head quickly. Nope.

Closing out the stalker-like Twitter feed that she’d been poring over, she typed Kirby’s name into the search bar and, instead of reading the updates, glanced around as if there were someone else in her apartment to see her, then clicked on her actual profile. 

The social media sweepers had done an impeccable job. The page still seemed authentic, at least with what Fallon knew about Kirby so far, but it was clean, and professional. Her header image was the title of the movie - cropped from the poster, clearly - and her icon had been changed from a blurry filtered selfie to a professional photo; Fallon recognized it from  _ Honeyblog _ . 

Still,  _ Kirby  _ was there on the page. It was littered with stupid jokes; alcohol-free photos of her and her friends at dinner; a few endorsements from blogs that had already interviewed her - it was perfect. 

Closing the feed altogether, she began to clean up the containers from her food and tried to find something to do with the rest of her day. She found herself scrolling through her phone as a fidgeting reflex, and hadn’t even realized that she’d pulled up Kirby in her texts until her thumb was hovering over the  _ send  _ button.

_ ‘How was your date?’ _

She waited a few moments, genuinely expecting an instant reply, at first before telling herself that she had to have been truly dying of boredom to be bothering a client just for someone to talk to. Pulling up Monica’s name, instead, she began to type a new message.

_ ‘What are you doing tonight? Don’t answer that. Manicures and wine?’ _

Monica answered her quickly, and Fallon took it as a sign that she should have texted her first.

_ [1:01PM] Monica: Manicures and wine sounds good. I think I saw your girl with Jeff when I was on my way out. _

Fallon frowned at the screen, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Her mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, that she was being poached, but she tried to keep herself calm as she replied to Monica.

_ ‘When was this?’ _

_ [1:03PM] Monica: about an hour ago? _

Fuming instantly, Fallon texted Kirby again.

_ ‘Where are you? Need to talk to you.’ _

She followed up by immediately phoning Jeff, pacing her kitchen angrily as the phone rang. She knew he always had his phone in his hand, and knowing that he was letting it ring just to make her wait only made her more irritated.

_ “Jeff Colby.” _

“What the hell are you doing? Is Kirby with you?”

“No,” Fallon could hear the smirk in his voice, and had to picture herself strangling him to keep from slamming her phone down. “I just took her home.”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

“What are you, her mother?” He laughed. “I had to take her to buy a new one, she lost hers last night. I’m sure she’ll get back to you as soon as she unboxes it. Besides, she said that she didn’t have anything going on today.”

“Oh my god,” Fallon whined. “I give her one day off and you think you can just swoop in and try to pull her out from under me?”

“Fallon, that’s not what’s happening. She came in looking for you, and I offered to give her a ride.”

“Oh, I bet you did,” She hissed, tightening her grip on her phone. “Focus on your own work, okay?”

“I was just trying to help.” He sounded genuinely annoyed now, so she reined it in and clenched her jaw.

“I don’t want your help. If I did, I’d ask for it. Got it?”

“Whatever, Fallon,” He sighed, hanging up before she had the chance to do so first. 

Her screen refreshed as the call ended and alerted her of her two new text messages.

_ [1:10PM] Kirby Anders: everything ok? _

_ [1:10PM] Kirby Anders: i just got home _

Feeling a little tug of guilt in her chest for having probably scared the shit out of the other woman for no reason, she typed back a quick response.

_ ‘Everything’s fine. False alarm.’  _

She paused, considering adding more to it - something about Jeff, maybe, but she knew it would only read as unprofessional, and she didn’t need to strain their relationship any more than she already had. If Kirby was off with Jeff Colby instead of her, she’d win her back  _ properly _ . She sent the message, assured Monica that she’d make the appointment, and then set her phone down and left it on the counter to cool herself off for a little before making anymore rash text-based decisions. 

She distracted herself with paperwork and other projects she’d brought home from the office for a couple of hours, but even without her phone, she found herself procrastinating on her computer instead. She reorganized her calendar, changing the color-code she had set up months earlier, and called back every confirmation that she could have asked one of the interns to do for her instead. 

Around 3:30, it was too early to eat - or start drinking - so she wandered back into her living room and collapsed onto the couch. Her eyes were too tired from staring at her screen for hours to put anything on the TV, but the DVD case taunted her from the coffee table. Swiping it up, Fallon stood up and replaced the disc back into its case, hoping that the action would solidify in her mind that she was done watching it over and over.

Her phone chirped at her from the kitchen island, and she made her way back over to it, deciding her two hour time-out had been enough. 

_ [3:31PM] Kirby Anders: wtf is this _

Inserted with the message was a photo of a large box, and Fallon zoomed in to squint at it before realizing.

_ ‘Probably the trailer. Did your manager ask for a copy? Do not open it.’ _

Kirby answered her almost instantly.

_ [3:31PM] Kirby Anders: jfc, i thought it was a bomb or severed horse head or smth.  _

Fallon snorted, but quickly wiped the smile from her face as if the other woman could see her, and she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

_ ‘This seems like a conversation for your manager. Which again, I am not.’ _

The typing bubble from Kirby’s end appeared and vanished once or twice before her phone buzzed again.

_ [3:33PM] Kirby Anders: i figured you’d probably have more experience with people sending creepy shit to you for revenge. _

Fallon rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the smirk off of her face. Leaning against her counter, she typed back quickly:  _ ‘You think so highly of me. What possessed you to hire me, again? _

_ [3:33PM] Kirby Anders: that’s a conversation for my manager. _

Fallon found herself grinning to herself as she set her phone down, and tried as hard as she could to will her face to return to neutral. Remembering her plans with Monica, she scooped the phone up again and exited her texts to call and reserve their appointment, making her way back upstairs to get ready.

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you sort everything out with Jeff?” Monica didn’t even say ‘hello’ as the receptionist led her over to where Fallon was sitting. 

Fallon glanced up from where she was soaking her hands at the table, shrugging a little.

“Sort of. Misunderstanding, I think.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?” Monica shrugged her coat off and got comfortable, holding her bottle of nail polish out to the esthetician and turning to face Fallon.

“I don’t really want to talk about work,” Fallon dismissed gently, giving her a quick smile to reassure her friend that she was simply tired, not upset.

“Okay, that’s fair. What did you get up to last night? I half-expected you to call; I figured you’d be bored.”

The evening before came flooding back to her and she frowned.

“I… watched a movie. For work. And then… had a drink with Michael.”

“A drink,” Monica repeated, fixing her with a knowing look.

Fallon turned away, pulling her hands out of the soak and resting them on the towel as the bowl was taken away. She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment, avoiding looking up. 

“Yeah, at mine.”

“How much longer are you planning on stringing him along?”

Fallon regretted taking work off the table as a conversation topic. Both of their estheticians got to work, and Fallon distracted herself by watching the process, letting her eyes practically glaze over before she answered Monica.

“I’m not stringing him along. We’re both adults, we know what we’re doing. Besides, if he was so hurt, he could say something about it.”

“Are you kidding? You practically have date-repellent pheromones.” 

Fallon gave her a genuinely offended look, but she backtracked.

“That isn’t what I mean. I’m just saying, if he’s not asking you out, it’s because he’s smart enough to know that you don’t really want him to. Not because he’s not interested.” Monica levelled her gaze on her. “You  _ know  _ you’re terrifying. You do it on purpose.”

Fallon sighed. She wasn’t wrong.

“I’m having fun. He’s nice to me and  _ really…  _ really attractive, and we get along. It’s nice not having so many expectations.”

“I think  _ hot  _ and  _ nice  _ are setting the bar a little low,” Monica started, “but fine. I won’t push it.”

“Thank you.”

The two of them fell into silence for a few moments, the only sounds around them being the forever trickling of water in a zen fountain  _ somewhere _ in the spa, and the soft harp music playing over the radio in every room. 

“What’re we watching tonight?” Monica finally broke the tension. “Please tell me you have something good from that Oscar locker.”

Fallon chuckled, glancing over at her.

“I think I have a few.”  She thought about her copy of  _ Splintered Men  _ that was still on her table at home, and immediately felt on edge. The idea of showing it to Monica made her skin crawl - she could already hear the teasing lecture about Kirby - so she shoved it from her mind. She did have other options; she’d make them the priority. 

They made it through their manicures without any more uncomfortable topics arising, and after a couple glasses of complimentary champagne, a trip to the wine store, and a short walk back to Fallon’s apartment, they were both giggly and feeling entirely stress-free. Thoughts of Jeff, Kirby, and even her father’s wedding popped up in Fallon’s head and vanished without a moment of anxiety. 

It might have been the wine - she and Monica  _ did  _ quickly polish off two entire bottles over the course of a couple of movies - but either way, Fallon felt like she could breathe for the first time in a while. 

For a moment.

“What’s this one?” Monica dug through the movies and held up the case for  _ Splintered Men _ , and Fallon nearly dove off of the couch to tackle her. 

“Whoa.” She held the case back and away from Fallon’s reach, blinking in confusion. “Oh, shit, this is Kirby’s movie. We should watch it.”

“No,” Fallon whined, swiping it from her when she left it undefended for a moment. “I’ve had to watch it like 30 times already because of work.”

“Because of work,” Monica repeated, taking the case back just as quickly and flipping it over to read the back.

“Yes, because of work!” Fallon sat back, defeated, watching as Monica scanned the information curiously. 

“Since when do you have to watch a movie thirty times for work?” 

“Since my client is an  _ insane  _ person and I have to figure out a marketable balance between that,” she gestured at the case, “And her.”

Monica seemed to buy that. It  _ sounded  _ true, when Fallon heard herself saying it, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t. Admitting she just loved the movie shouldn’t have been hard, but for whatever reason, she felt embarrassed. She forced herself not to dwell on the feeling, getting up from the floor and climbing back onto the couch.

“The trailer is out tomorrow, anyway. You can decide then if you even want to watch it,” Fallon compromised, but Monica had already put the movie back and seemed to be over the idea in general.

“That bad, huh?”

“No, it’s good. Like I said, I sort of… overdid it.”

She knew that she’d be busted as soon as the movie came out, if Monica still remembered this conversation, by then. For now, though, she had gotten away with it, and the two of them scrolled through the movies on demand for awhile instead. 

Having Monica in her apartment was a starkly different feeling from having Michael over, and as she wrapped her friend up in a fur throw blanket when she fell asleep, and shut off the lights to go to her own bed, Fallon felt perfectly comfortable. In fact, the distraction of knowing that someone else was in her place helped keep her mind off of all of the confusing thoughts from the day she’d just had. 

That is, of course, until she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features recreational drug use and binge drinking. Reader discretion advised!

Groaning quietly and rolling over in her bed, Kirby watched Fallon step around the open case of whiskey on the floor next to her closet and disgustedly grab the blanket off of the end of her bed. Tossing it onto the redhead haphazardly and barely bothering to straighten it out, Fallon sat down next to her feet and pulled out her phone, tapping away at the screen. Kirby had never seen her this angry, ever - it was so clear on her face that it cut through all of the bleariness in her eyes and fogginess in her head. Her head pounded and she used all of her physical strength to sit up enough to prop herself up on her elbow.

 

Fallon glanced at her for a moment, then went back to her phone before speaking.

 

“You’re un-fucking-believable, you know that?”

 

Kirby frowned, squinting a little and then wiping aggressively at her eye, leaving a streak of black across the heel of her hand. Skipping past Fallon’s obvious anger, she asked a question of her own.

 

“How’d you get into my apartment?”

 

* * *

 

 

**12 HOURS EARLIER**

 

* * *

 

Kirby woke up with her alarm, and felt completely well-rested for the first time in a while. Her ride home with Jeff had turned into a few errands, which in turn had turned into the two of them stopping at his house and dropping off dry-cleaning, which had  _ then  _ finally turned into her heading home and tidying her own apartment. Inspired by the cleanliness in the last two, much fancier, homes that she’d been in, she felt that despite its humble size, she would make her small apartment as sleek as it could be, too. She’d even gone to bed early, after a bubble bath and a cup of tea, sleeping on her freshly cleaned sheets like a baby.

 

Despite the physical bliss that she slowly came to in, her brain immediately sent her into panic mode, and she sat upright, grabbing her phone from her nightstand. Her manager had texted her an excited reminder about the trailer that would be released that day, though her text was much less pressure-filled than the ones she’d missed from Fallon.

 

_ [6:10AM] Fallon PR: Trailer day! _ _   
_ _ [6:12AM] Fallon PR: Stay off of Twitter. Don’t do that thing where you overthink or stress yourself out, I don’t have time to babysit today. _

 

She could hear Fallon’s voice as she read the messages, but still couldn’t take the advice to heart. She was desperate to know how the release was going to go. She knew coffee wouldn’t help her nerves, and hoped that she’d be alright for the day without any caffeine, anyway. Her sleep  _ had  _ been good, even if it had ended in worry.

 

Getting out of her apartment would have to be her course of action. She wanted to text most of her other friends, though she felt bad about having fallen out of touch with a lot of them over the last week and a bit. Instead, she texted Alice, leaving her phone as she wandered to the bathroom and began getting ready for the day.

 

She was surprised that Alice had texted her back by the time she was done her short shower - though she hadn’t seen Alice  _ not  _ clutching her phone  _ once _ in the entire time they’d spent together, so she supposed it wasn’t that strange. 

 

‘ _ How was your party?’  _ Kirby asked, trying to sound conversational instead of needy. She felt bad for leaving so quickly - especially after falling asleep at her place after their drinks, but was glad to see that it seemed like the other woman wasn’t harbouring any weird feelings about it.

 

_ [7:01AM] Alice Alby: it was so good!! u should have been there!! next time _ !!

 

Kirby smiled at her phone, feeling relief wash over her.

 

_ ‘How about I make it up to you and buy you lunch? I still owe you for drinks.’ _

 

Her phone buzzed in her hand immediately.

 

_ [7:03AM] Alice Alby: make it brunch. i can leave to pick u up in like 10 minutes girl i am starvingggggggg. _

 

Glancing at the time in the corner of her screen, and then back at her empty apartment, she typed back:

 

_ ‘For sure. I’ll text you the address.’ _

 

Within the hour, Kirby was back in Alice’s limo, sipping a mimosa and recounting the events of the other night. 

 

“Sorry again for falling asleep.”

 

“Don’t be! It sounds like you’ve been super busy. You deserved a rest.”

 

No matter what Alice was saying, she seemed to be able to make Kirby feel like the most important, cared for person in the room. The singer reached over and grabbed her knee, shaking it gently in reassurance.

 

Smiling back at her, Kirby pulled her hair up and back, away from her neck, and fanned herself. It was been hotter than she had been expecting, and she hadn’t dressed particularly well for it.

 

“Are you hot? It’s really nice out, we could sit on a patio somewhere,” Alice suggested, already handing Kirby a second mimosa despite her first only being half-empty.

 

Brunch on a patio  _ did  _ sound nice, but Kirby thought of Fallon, and her carefully planned out timeline for her new image, and decided against it. There was no point working against Fallon and being spotted out with Alice. Still, it wasn’t like she wasn’t allowed to have friends. She felt guilty thinking about turning Alice down based on what other people would think of her image. 

 

“Sure. That sounds really good, actually.”

 

Despite Kirby’s offer to pay, Alice chose the restaurant. Kirby had never been to  _ The Farm _ , and upon learning that, Alice had lost her mind. It was a farther drive than Kirby had been expecting, and she was just polishing off her third mimosa when the two of them climbed out of the car into the bright sunlight and made their way in.

 

Alice had a hundred and one questions for Kirby as they sat outside.

 

“You said your trailer comes out today, right? Is it out? Can I see it?” 

 

Kirby was surprised she even remembered that, considering how their night had gone after she’d mentioned it. 

 

“Not yet, later today. I’m actually supposed to be staying away from social media and distracting myself, so, this is perfect.” 

 

“Oh, so you’re just using me.” Alice’s grin didn’t leave her face, her wide eyes narrowing playfully.

 

“Oh, caught.” Kirby grinned back at her.

 

“Well, maybe I’m using you too. Getting in on the ground floor of being seen with the next Oscar winning movie star.”

 

Kirby laughed at that, feeling a blush immediately heat up her cheeks. 

 

“Oh, you’re blushing. Cute. I’m sorry.” Alice waved a hand, tucking her hair back over her shoulder and sipping her drink with a sly grin that told Kirby she was  _ absolutely  _ not sorry. “Should we get beergaritas?”

 

“It’s like, eight-thirty in the morning,” Kirby pointed out, laughing.

 

“And? It’s easier on the stomach than the champagne you were just chugging. C’mon, this is basically lunch, anyway.”

 

Kirby considered it for a moment. She really didn’t have anything to do all day except sit on her hands and keep herself distracted. A day drink or two could turn out to be a perfect way to spend the next few hours. 

 

“Fine. Not too many, though.” Kirby smiled a little when Alice squealed happily at her decision, glancing out at the street near them instead.

 

The flash of red didn’t stand out in Beverly Hills like it did by her own apartment, but she still felt it light up her senses and cause her to perk up, trying to follow the car with her eyes and make out the model.

 

“Someone you know?” Alice’s words snapped her out of it, and she turned to her with a small smile.

 

“No, I mean - I don’t know. It looked like my publicist’s car.”

 

“Oh!” Alice smiled brightly, at that, as if it were great news. “Did you wanna call her? She could join us, if she’s around.”

 

“No!” Kirby protested a little too quickly, before clearing her throat. “Sorry. No, she’s probably really busy. Our relationship is pretty professional and at arms length, anyway.”

 

“Oh, okay!” She turned away from Kirby to order them both ‘beergaritas’, and then leaned in close across the table. “There’s a guy on the corner taking pictures. Just so you know. No - don’t  _ look _ .”

 

Kirby stopped mid-turn and stiffened in her seat, raising an eyebrow impatiently as she awaited instructions. She was glad that their drinks had yet to arrive. She could already hear Fallon’s annoyed tone when she would have eventually phoned her to complain about her being spotted drinking for breakfast.

 

“I think he’s leaving.” Alice leaned over a little, watching the space behind Kirby, and then smiled at her and squeezed her arm, once, before dropping her hand back to her lap. “He’s gone. Sorry, I just - didn’t know if you wanted everyone in your business today. You seem a little bit stressed out.”

 

Kirby felt a sudden warmth pool up in her stomach and chest, and the smile on her face doubled in size. 

 

“That’s… really sweet of you. I’m kind of nervous about what people are going to think of the trailer, I guess, but that’s all.”

 

“Don’t be!” Alice squeezed her arm again, knocking her knee against Kirby’s under the table. “It’s going to be so great.  _ I’m  _ excited.” 

 

It was hollow reassurance, but it still felt nice, and Kirby felt considerably better as her weird beer-slush-cocktail was placed in front of her, taking a few generous sips quickly. 

 

Hanging out with Alice made her feel good about herself. She guiltily understood why she could be a liability - she was a magnet for scandal, even though Kirby could see clearly that all of her intentions were good, and her past followed her everywhere - but she wanted everyone else to know the real her. It was unfair for her to expect people to take her as she was - or at least, the slightly Carrington-censored version of herself - and not do the same for anyone else.

 

They each finished two drinks before deciding to order, at 10 o’ clock,  and Kirby felt the alcohol-induced hunger crashing over her as they found multiple items to split between the two of them. 

 

“You know what would make this even better?” Alice asked, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she inhaled another onion ring.

 

Kirby thought hard about a genuine answer, but nothing came to mind.

 

“Weed.”

 

Alice’s response to her own question made the redhead laugh out loud, almost dropping her piece of french toast that she’d been eating as if it were meant to be handheld.

 

“You’re not wrong.”

 

“You don’t have any, do you?”

 

“I do!” Kirby lit up, before remembering that it was back at her apartment - a place she didn’t necessarily feel confident enough sharing with the woman across from her. “Oh, actually, I’m out, now that I think about it.”

 

She assumed that would have been the end of it, but Alice pulled her phone out and began tapping away at the screen, wiping her hand off on the napkin beside her. 

 

“I’ll get Leigh to pick up.” She glanced up from her phone as their server passed them, flagging him down. “Could we get another round, please?”

 

Kirby squashed her feeling of uneasiness by reminding herself that she really did have the day to herself. She blamed the turning in her stomach on the alcohol and the heat, paired with greasy and sugary food. She’d been nervous the last time that she and Alice had escalated their plans into partying - and it had gone perfectly fine. 

 

“I could hang out,” Kirby agreed, finishing off the last of her drink before it could be replaced.

 

“Good! I’m really glad you called.” Alice smiled brightly at her, “Ooh! We could have a pool day. Nothing goes better with weed than laying by the pool on a nice day.”

 

“I thought it would be greasy food,” Kirby supplied, feeling a flutter in her chest when Alice pushed her arm again, laughing. The sound of it made Kirby feel like she was in high school all over again, making jokes and trying to get a girl to laugh for attention. This time, it felt more giddiness-inducing than nerve-wracking, though.

 

They each finished another two drinks before the food was gone and the bill had been paid. Standing up made Kirby realize just how drunk she’d become, and she was thankful that everyone seemed to be paying attention to Alice, not her,  and that the limo was waiting for them only a few short steps away. She walked a little uneasily, but made it into the back seat unscathed. Checking her phone showed that she hadn’t missed any important notifications or messages, and with that weight lifted from her chest, she let herself relax, singing along with Alice to every song on her playlist as they made their way to her penthouse.

 

When they arrived, there were considerably more people there than Kirby had been anticipating, but Alice introduced her to everyone as if she were the most VIP, and as they passed around the bong, Kirby found herself making easy conversation with everyone around her as if they’d been friends for years. 

 

They moved outside into the sun once more, and both women began shedding layers in a desperate attempt to not overheat. 

 

“Told you that this was the best,” Alice reminded her, sprawled out on the chair next to her with a lazy grin on her face. “You’re gonna burn, though. You want some lotion?”

 

Kirby waved a hand. 

 

“In a minute. I think my next place needs a pool,” she decided wistfully.

 

“Oh, absolutely,” Alice agreed. “But you’re welcome at mine, any time. No one else ever uses it except me, it’s such a waste.”

 

“That’s…  _ criminally  _ wasteful,” Kirby insisted dramatically, feeling a fit of giggles rising up in her chest and spilling out before she could stop them. She turned to Alice and squinted in the bright sunlight at her.

 

“Hey, thanks again for hanging out. I really needed the distraction today.”

 

“Speaking of,” Alice sat upright, putting her sunglasses on top of her head for safekeeping, “Is the trailer out yet?”

 

Kirby glanced at her phone. 

 

“Not yet, still about an hour to go.”

 

“We should all watch it together!” Alice exclaimed, throwing both hands up when she spoke. “Oh my god, it’ll be perfect. We can put it up on the projector and then do a countdown and get drunk.”

 

Kirby chuckled nervously - but the idea did sound appealing, the more she rolled it around in her mind. Having friends nearby - or at least friendly faces - and the ability to drink to forget all about the stress right afterward was a better plan than her own (which had been to watch it alone, in her bedroom, and panic). 

 

“Alright, fine.”

 

“Good, because I already ordered the booze.”

 

Kirby’s jaw dropped a little, and Alice laughed loudly in response to the look on her face.

 

“Hey! Don’t do that. If you wanted to go home, I would have given you a ride. But I still would have been coming back here to celebrate. I’m proud of you!”

 

Kirby thought for a moment about Fallon’s texts that morning.  _ Don’t do that thing where you overthink or stress yourself out, I don’t have time to babysit, today.  _

 

No ‘good luck’, or anything of the sort.  _ Certainly  _ not an ‘I’m proud of you’. 

 

Her silence obviously bothered Alice, who suddenly looked embarrassed, scrambling to add, “Sorry, that was probably weird. I just feel like I’ve known you for a super long time, or something. I’m excited for you.”

 

Kirby  _ melted _ , leaning across the gap between their chairs and kissing the other woman on the cheek before standing up and holding her hand out. 

 

“I appreciate it. This is going to be fun,” she assured her, watching the smile light up her face and feeling an excited pull in her chest. “Let’s get in the pool, though, at least once before we have to join the killjoys.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby’s apartment seemed exceptionally depressing, after spending so much time in the beautiful sunlight and then in Alice’s much more impressive home. She barely had time to take off her shoes before her buzzer went off, letting her know that the alcohol delivery she’d put in a request for had already arrived. Perfect timing.

Alice showing her the app had been a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, the convenience was wonderful, and on the other, she knew that she was buzzing in a crate of whiskey and the swift death of whatever was left of her liver after a full day of drinking.

The delivery woman regarded her almost worriedly when Kirby opened the door, reaching for the first crate before even saying so much as ‘hello’.

“Hey, aren’t you that girl from -”

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to tip in the app. First time.” Kirby cut her off, slurring, and shoved a hundred dollar bill at her before she could continue.

The woman swallowed her question and took the money, releasing the bungee cord from her cart and allowing Kirby to use one knee to shove the boxes inside, promptly closing the door.

She hadn’t eaten anything at Alice’s, and knew that she should, at some point, but the convenience of a strong drink and a nap on her couch seemed much more appealing. 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she tugged it out, watching as the notifications that had started shortly after the trailer premiered - and hadn’t stopped since - continued to pile up. 

Nothing from Fallon, though. 

She decided, against her better judgment, to open Twitter, and took bleary inventory of the fact that her followers, which  _ had _ been sitting at a humble 950, had jumped to over 7500 since the last that she’d checked it. Feeling like her phone was suddenly more powerful than anything she was equipped to be in charge of, she held down the power button until it shut down, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. 

She picked up one of the cases of whiskey and waddled toward her bedroom with it, opening her window and then digging around in her side table drawer for her stash box. Stripping to her underwear and feeling the heat already dissipating from her (probably sun-stroked) body, she imagined herself as some sort of male-fantasy from a  _ GQ magazine,  _ sitting against her wall half-dressed with a bottle of  _ Glenfiddich 12 Year  _ in one hand and a lit joint hanging from her lips. 

She thought about Alice, her friends, and the way that hanging out with her made her feel. 

_ Drunk _ , she heard Fallon’s voice in her head.  _ She makes you feel drunk, because that seems to be all you do when you’re together. _

Shaking the thought away, she swigged straight from the bottle and promptly felt bile trying to rise in her throat. Stumbling to her feet, she set the bottle down and decided that some sort of mix would definitely be in order. Kirby stubbed out her joint on the ashtray by the window, and made her way back to the front hall, pushing the second case of whiskey toward the fridge as she began to search for a suitable mix. 

She had a half carton of orange juice left, and a bottle of wine, both of which she promptly pulled out and set on the counter. Orange juice and red wine was close enough to a sangria, she decided. The whiskey was for flavour.

Once her strange experiment had been properly concocted, Kirby made her way to the living room couch and collapsed into it, spilling a decent amount of alcohol on herself in the process, but simply laughing it off and sipping her drink as carefully as she could in her half-horizontal position. 

Flicking on her television, she scrolled through until the preview of  _ TMZ  _ showed her Alice, from earlier that day, and she frowned as she scrambled to sit up and watch the episode. 

The first shot of herself made her stomach drop, and she squeezed her eyes shut from the sudden stress-induced bout of dizziness that came over her. 

She and Alice were sitting knee to knee, comparison photos of Alice alone plastered in the split-screen shot.  _ Alice Alby and unknown friend _ , they titled it. She would have normally been relieved, but with the release of her trailer about to pick up even more speed, she  _ knew  _ she had fucked up.

Fallon was going to kill her. 

Stumbling to her feet and gripping her glass tightly in her hand, she considered her options.

She thought about turning her phone back on and calling her, but knew that she was in no state to try to make any sort of professional phone calls. Besides, being locked in the safety of her apartment seemed like a better option, anyway. Just as she decided to hole up and let the dust settle, the glass slipped from her hand and shattered at her feet. Watching it fall, she took a couple of stumbling steps, before feeling a sharp migraine-like wave roll over her at the same time as debilitating nausea, and blacked out as she hit the floor.

 

* * *

 

 

“So then, after having to assure your probably-too-stupid-to-be-working manager that I wasn’t planning on breaking in and stealing your…  _ IKEA  _ furniture or low-grade weed, I had to actually find parking, which, by the way, you owe me like $50 for.”

Kirby tried to sit herself up, wincing at the noticeable stickiness on her arms and chest, then remembered the spilled drink. 

“I’m not sure you should be talking to  _ me  _ like this after breaking into my fucking apartment.” She felt the room spin and closed her eyes for a moment, but heard Fallon scoff.

“Do you remember, this morning, when I specifically said that  _ today  _ I did not have time to babysit?” Fallon’s voice was almost gravelly from frustration. “Today, of all days, was not the day to pull this kind of shit. It smells like death, in here, by the way.”

“Oh, right.” Kirby sat up and propped herself against the headboard, reaching over and pulling her unfinished joint from the ashtray. “Well, now that you’ve invited yourself in and insulted everything, are you going to tell me what the hell you want?”

“Where’s your phone?” Fallon snapped.

Kirby shrugged. 

“I turned it off when you didn’t seem to need to get ahold of me.”

“Oh,  _ please,”  _ Fallon stood up, ready to begin her search. “Don’t do that pouting thing, again. It gives me secondhand embarrassment. If you need someone to pat you on the back every step of the way and tell you how great you’re doing, you can hire an entourage of yes men. You’re not the only thing in my schedule right now.”

Kirby didn’t bother answering that, feeling the swell of embarrassment in her chest explode as Fallon left the room without another word, returning shortly with her phone.

“I’m handing your social media over to someone on our team.”

“What, so now you’re saying you don’t trust me? With my own  _ Twitter? _ ” Kirby asked around the joint, struggling to relight it. 

She jumped when Fallon was suddenly back on the bed with her, so close to her face that she could smell her perfume.

“That is  _ exactly  _ what the fuck I am saying,” she growled.

Kirby was sure that she could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she stared back at the brunette, wide-eyed, and almost afraid to break eye contact for a moment. 

“From now on,” Fallon said as she pulled away and walked out of the room again, taking Kirby’s phone with her, “You’re… grounded. Until this fucking campaign isn’t so vulnerable.”

Kirby laughed outright.

“I’m not kidding!” Fallon called from the bathroom across the hall, digging around under the sink. “If you want to act like a fucking child, I’ll treat you like one. Whatever weird mommy-kink that you’re trying to play out with me is about to get very,  _ very  _ real. Am I clear?”

She stood in the doorway, clutching a box of bandaids, and Kirby smirked as she levelled her gaze with her.

“Crystal.” 

Fallon sat on the bed again, and Kirby let out an embarrassing sound that she wouldn’t have admitted to making under the threat of torture or death when the brunette suddenly grabbed her ankle from under the blanket and pulled it toward herself.

“Shit, stop! I think I’m sunburnt.” Kirby hated how whiny her tone sounded after trying so hard to keep the power dynamic in balance only moments earlier, but  _ holy shit,  _ that hurt.

“No, you’re not. You’re a dumbass and possibly an alcoholic.” Fallon turned her leg over for her to see, and Kirby took note of the massive, sticky gash running up the inside of her calf. Ah, right, the broken glass.

“Did you… carry me to bed?” Kirby asked, after watching Fallon struggle with the cap of antibacterial ointment for a few seconds. “And I wouldn’t bother with that, it’s probably expired anyway.”

“No, I woke you up and half-dragged you. You don’t remember trying to tell me how excited you were to see me?”

“I think you’re making that up because you know I can’t remember if you’re lying.”

Fallon rolled her eyes, pressing one of the bandaids to the cut with much more pressure than necessary, causing Kirby to groan and try to pull her leg free for a moment.

“I swear to god, if you don’t stop being such a fucking baby-” Fallon didn’t even finish her threat, pressing a second bandaid above the first one, though, Kirby noted, she was a little more merciful in her execution this time.

“So, what now? Someone else tweets stupid shit from my account, which, by the way, is  _ always  _ super obvious, and you just shield me from the world like those babies that are afraid of sunlight?” Kirby watched Fallon open a third bandaid, suddenly very aware of her state of undress.

“Kirby, if I could make a programmable clone of you and lock you in a meat freezer so that winning you this Oscar was easier, I would,” Fallon insisted. “You’re lucky that this is the only option that I have right now.” 

Standing up, Fallon handed Kirby back her phone, and then took one last disparaging look at the room around her.

“Go to sleep. I’ll call you with your new schedule in the morning.”

“Goodnight to you too, Fallon.”

Adding insult to injury, Fallon flicked off the bedroom light and threw the redhead into total darkness before Kirby heard her let herself out the front door.


	9. Chapter 9

Sitting stiffly on an uncomfortable Starbucks patio chair, Fallon people-watched the sidewalk beside her, and stirred her straw around in her iced coffee slowly. She kept an eye on her open Uber app, watching as Kirby’s hired car weaved up and down side streets, drawing closer and closer to the corner where she sat. She knew it was overkill, but after finding the redhead passed out in a mix of alcohol and her own blood, she felt that being extra precautionary - at least for the next little while - couldn’t hurt. All of the ice had melted in her cup, leaving what was leftover tasting like a watery, sad excuse for coffee, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw it out and show that she was almost being stood up.

 

Kirby’s car pulled up slowly as Fallon closed out the app from her phone, pushing out the chair across from her for the other woman to sit down.

 

“You’re late,” she greeted.

 

“Had to stop for cigarettes,” Kirby explained, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and making her way over. She pulled her sunglasses from her bag as she sat down, taking a quick glance at their surroundings before putting them on and getting comfortable. 

 

Fallon watched her carefully, impatiently drumming her fingers on the metal table. She had advice to calm Kirby’s nerves and keep a steady head - a lot of it - but they had more important matters to discuss. Since the trailer had been released only two days prior, Kirby had barely left her apartment unless it had been for work - as far as Fallon knew - and she hadn’t had much of a chance to adjust to the idea of any new attention. 

 

The morning after she’d…  _ let herself in _ to Kirby’s place, they hadn’t been particularly productive. She’d had a car waiting for the actress as soon as she woke up, and the two of them spent their morning in the conference room of Carrington PR going over scheduling details for the upcoming weeks - or rather,  _ Fallon _ and Kirby’s manager, who had to be phoned in, had gone over scheduling details, while Kirby ate a protein bar and chugged  _ four  _ bottles of water. 

 

She looked considerably more well-rested today, though. Her hair was all pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and her makeup was minimal, whatever hint of a tan she’d picked up from the last time Fallon had seen her in proper light seeming to finally glow through. She looked absolutely nothing like she did in  _ Splintered Men _ , and Fallon realized that it was probably on purpose, to avoid being recognized. 

 

“I didn’t get a confirmation back from you about Chicago. Did you get the itinerary that I emailed?” 

 

“I don’t see why I can’t bring my manager,” Kirby complained, pulling a bottle of juice out of her bag after double-checking that none of the coffee shop staff would notice. 

 

“Because we’re only flying you and one more out. You can take her  _ instead  _ of me, if you want.” Fallon knew her words had to have sounded like a threat, from the way the woman across from her stiffened, and then shook her head minutely. 

 

She knew she had been hard on her, but it was a little rewarding to see her still recognize that even if she  _ hated  _ everything Fallon did, she still needed her on her team.

 

“Alright, so,” Fallon sat up in her seat, steadying her gaze on the other woman despite her large sunglasses, “We’ll call your management office when we land, you and I will go to the first day together, we’ll spend the night, then head to New York. We have three days there, but only day two is work; we get in in the afternoon and leave early on day three, then… back home. There’s four straight days once we’re here, but then you can relax.”

 

Kirby nodded slowly, processing everything, but Fallon continued.

 

“I know Alice is going to be in New York for the next few weeks.” Fallon watched the redhead suddenly avert her gaze to her table, and then her phone, before looking up again.

 

“ _ And?” _ she snapped.

 

“And you’re not seeing her. We’re busy. I can see the idea hamster running on his little wheel in your brain from here. Not a chance.”

 

“Jesus, Fallon,” Kirby breathed out, the annoyance obvious on her face. “What am I, fifteen?”

 

Fallon held both hands up as if she were a scale, leaning one way and then the other. 

 

“Oscar… druggie girlfriend… Oscar… druggie girlfriend… which one?”

 

Kirby shook her head, and Fallon could see her roll her eyes beneath her glasses.

 

“Alice isn’t my girlfriend. Not that it would have helped your case either way, but telling me who I can and can’t be friends with seems like a stretch.”

 

Fallon sighed.

 

“I’m not telling you who you can and can’t be friends with. I’m telling you, as your publicist, that you’re making a huge mistake by being seen with her constantly when you have so much riding on these next few months.”

 

Kirby scoffed. “You don’t even know her.”

 

Taking a calming breath and closing her eyes for a moment, Fallon reined in her sudden surge of white hot frustration that tempted her to lean over the table and shake some sense into the woman on the other side.

 

“Kirby,” she tried to sound as non-condescending as possible, her tone suddenly much more gentle. “You don’t know her, either. I obviously can’t lock you in a hotel room cuffed to the radiator and keep you away from her, but it’s in your best interest to just make it through this tour with your head down.”

 

She watched the other woman decide if she was going to fight her on it or not before seeming to decide the latter and nodding.

 

“Fine. Probably be too tired, anyway.”

 

Fallon let out a tiny sigh of relief.

 

“Can I at least go  _ out  _ or do  _ something  _ on my own? No offence, but the less time that I’m stuck with you, the better your chances of me keeping you,” Kirby faux-threatened. 

 

“Oh, please.” Fallon flapped one hand dismissively. “If you wanted to fire me, you would have already.”

 

Kirby sat up straighter in her seat, turning her gaze out to the street for a moment, before huffing, “Can we just go over the talking points now, or what? I have my own life.”

 

Fallon reached into her bag and flipped open the folder sticking out from the top, turning it toward Kirby on the table. 

 

“Fine. Alright, we’ll start with Chicago.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

A week passed, leading up to the trip. In Kirby’s defense, she did still show up to every interview that Fallon had set up for her - though that may have had more to do with the cars that Fallon sent for her than a serious passion for work.

 

Some evenings, anxiety kept Fallon awake, thinking about whatever stupid, rebellious comment or threat to go rogue that Kirby had made to her during the day, but each morning, she showed up, flipped the switch, and did her interviews.

 

She’d seen enough of Kirby being a professional, and she knew she was fully capable of turning it on and off when she needed to - so she was convinced that the troublemaking aspect of her personality that seemed to come out when the cameras were off was specifically making its visits to rattle her nerves.

 

And boy, was it was working.

 

She found herself reminding Kirby about appointments and meetings and interviews so often that the redhead seemed genuinely irritated at the constant nagging, and then still showed up with only a minute to spare. 

 

Fallon was sure she’d occasionally caught her smirking to herself after stumbling through some excuse for being so rushed, but for the sake of her own sanity, told herself she was being paranoid. 

 

With just two days to go before they flew out, Fallon was rushing around from the office to interviews like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to keep an eye on Kirby while also letting her think that she was easing up on her. It was a delicate balance, and the truth was that if she hadn’t been as busy as she was, it would have been easier to maintain. 

 

She nearly forgot about Kirby getting home from her last interview of the day - one of the first few that she was doing  _ without _ Fallon - and when she pulled up to the curb of the hotel, in the rain, she could almost see steam rising off of the redhead as she made her way over to the car. 

 

Rolling down the passenger side window, Fallon leaned over a little to call out for her, but she waved a hand dismissively at her as she leaned down and poked her head into the car.

 

“I’m going to finish this.” She held her cigarette up, the small tower of ash balancing on the end of it looking precariously close to toppling off into the car seat. “You can wait.”

 

She stalked back across the sidewalk toward the building to lean against it again, and Fallon could see her shivering from several feet away. She watched her for a few moments, while she smoked with shaking hands and glared out down the street at passersby. Fallon rarely saw her genuinely angry like this, but her crankiness was becoming increasingly more common over the last week they’d spent together. She was partially convinced that they’d have some kind of fight once they started on the trip - they were already right on top of each other, constantly, just working together for a few hours each day. Being stuck in the same hotel suite and spending almost every waking moment together would be a new nightmare. 

 

She was also going to miss her apartment. She hadn’t been on a single trip out of town - at least not an overnight one - since she’d signed her lease, and she was beginning to realize that she’d grown much more attached to the space than she originally thought. 

 

Kirby let herself back into the car and a wave of smoke-scented air followed her. 

 

“D’you have any gum?” She asked, dropping her (wet) purse down to her feet and sitting back in her (now wet) seat. 

 

Fallon took in the sight of her dripping all over the upholstery, and wrinkled her nose in distaste. 

 

“D’you have an umbrella?”

 

“Obviously not.” Kirby quirked an eyebrow, then held her hand out. “Gum?”

 

Fallon sighed, shifting the car into park and reaching behind herself to dig around in her bag for a moment, before finding a package and holding it out to the other woman. 

 

She watched Kirby take two pieces out and then drop the pack into her  _ own  _ purse at her feet, settling in and then clearing her throat.

 

“ _ Well? _ Are we going?”

 

Fallon chuckled in disbelief at the sudden ugly attitude rearing its head, blaming it reflexively on how cold and uncomfortable she must have been - and then wondering why she was doing the mental work to bother justifying it. 

 

Pulling away from the curb she made her way towards Kirby’s apartment complex. 

 

“Before I forget, I think I sent you the packing list,” Fallon spoke after a few long minutes of bitter silence. “Can you double check?” 

 

She glanced over and did a double take impatiently before Kirby pulled her phone out with a sigh that sounded like it was ripped off of an angsty teenager in a nineties sitcom. 

 

Fallon bit her lip in response, trying not to give in to her amusement, instead clearing her throat and squinting out the windshield as if she were super concentrated on watching the rain fall.

 

“This seems excessive.” Kirby finally spoke again, her eyes locked on her email screen on her phone. 

 

“It’s pretty straightforward. I’d be happy to answer  _ any  _ questions you might have.” Fallon kept her tone as neutral as possible, but couldn’t help but let the boredom seep into her voice. It was beginning to get a little bit exhausting - butting heads with Kirby had become so routine that it wasn’t even a challenge anymore, just a predictable push and pull game. 

 

Kirby didn’t answer her, and instead continued to stare at her screen. Fallon knew she didn’t have any real issues with the list.

 

Approaching Kirby’s building, Fallon pulled over and parked, turning her attention to the woman next to her, expecting her to bail out of the car before she was even parked. Instead, the redhead tucked her phone away and stared straight ahead for a long, quiet moment. Her hair dripped onto the seat and herself, the scent of her shampoo being reawakened from the rain and filling the car almost cloyingly. 

 

“Kirby?”

 

“Do you always do this?”

 

Fallon frowned, turning in her seat a little more. 

 

“Do what?” she asked.

 

“Put everyone you’re concerned about on a toddler leash.”

 

“I’m not concerned about  _ you _ , I’m concerned about your image.”

 

Kirby scoffed, shaking her head a little and gathering up her purse. 

 

“Right. My mistake.”

 

Fallon sighed, turning off her ignition.

 

“I have no reason to be concerned about you,” she insisted. “But I don’t think some of the decisions you’re making right now are particularly beneficial to what we’re trying to do, here.”

 

Kirby snorted.

 

“Whatever, you’re the expert.”

 

Fallon felt the smirk pulling at her lip before she could stop it.

 

“By all means, you can pull the plug on this entire thing. Have another publicist try to parade you around and keep you out of trouble, or, better yet, just do the whole thing yourself.”

 

“Does it ever get tiring?” Kirby practically cut her off. “Acting like a sociopath and refusing to make, I don’t know, any  _ real _ human connections with people because god  _ forbid _ someone actually enjoys being around you for anything other than employing you?”

 

Fallon froze on the spot, slowly pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and biting down on it to keep from spitting out the slew of reactionary insults that suddenly boiled up inside of her.

 

Kirby seeing her as some sort of robot wasn’t the worst case scenario. She didn’t need to let it get under her skin. It could be beneficial, if she played her hand properly.

 

“People deserve to see your work,” she said, after a moment of thought. “You’re not just an actor; you’re a movie star. Recognition  _ should  _ be a given, but it isn’t. You can’t fault me for wanting what’s best for you.”

 

Kirby turned to her, finally, and her eye contact was so intense that Fallon found herself squirming uncomfortably in her seat. 

 

“Did you even see the movie?”

 

“Of course I did.”

 

Kirby scoffed quietly. “Well, you could hardly remember the title. Did you watch it?  _ Really  _ watch it? And think, yes, that woman deserves a  _ Best Actress  _ award because she  _ really  _ earned it.”

 

Fallon opened her mouth to respond, but Kirby continued.

 

“If you’re only doing this because you think I could be shaped into someone who could  _ manage  _ to get that award, I don’t want to do this. Not with you.”

 

Fallon felt her heart thudding against her chest but ignored it. 

 

“Kirby, I -”

 

“You know what the worst part is?” Kirby went on. “I can  _ feel  _ that you think I deserve it. But you can’t admit -out loud, at least - that you believe in me. Doesn’t that seem shitty to you? Would  _ you  _ want to work with someone like that?”

 

“What do you want me to say, then?” Fallon asked.

 

“I want you to admit that you believe in me. At least when it comes to this.”

 

The two of them stared each other down for a long moment, and then Fallon cleared her throat again.

 

“I do. Believe in you, I mean.”

 

Kirby watched her for a moment and then raised an eyebrow.

 

“Good. You want to come upstairs for a drink?”

 

Fallon shook her head, sinking back into her seat and starting the car again. She watched the windshield wipers spring back to life and clear the rain from her window.

 

“No. I don’t drink while I’m working. And this is work.”

 

Kirby opened the door and climbed out without so much as a goodbye, slamming it shut behind her. Fallon watched her walk towards the door and shifted her car back into drive, pulling away from the curb before she could give the other woman a chance to look back. 

 

She drove in silence for awhile. 

 

Kirby wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last person to whirlwind into her life and try to change all of her opinions on how to conduct herself professionally, personally, and whatever else, but it still stung. 

 

She thought about watching the movie again. It was still sitting in the basket by her television, right on top of the pile and waiting for yet another revisit. She couldn’t, though - watching it over and over again made her feel soft, like she couldn’t quite separate the woman with the perfect work ethic from the woman who had been antagonizing her on a daily basis for the entire time she’d known her. She considered reaching out to Kirby’s manager and asking if she wanted her spot on the press junket, but also knew that deep down it had to be her. 

 

Kirby’s question did float around in her head, though, and she let herself think about it beyond what everyone had needed to hear in the moment. _Did_ she think Kirby genuinely deserved that award? Before then, her job had consisted of selling the client and getting the award, regardless. She didn’t make a habit of watching the competition, avoiding it as much as she could. She’d only paid attention to Kirby, until now, but was realizing that it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at who they were trying to knock down. 

  
Putting her own biases aside, she flipped on her signal light and changed course to head back to the office - there was a locker full of  _ ‘Films for Consideration’  _ waiting for her, and she had nothing else to do with the rest of her evening but pack and catch up on what she was up against.


	10. Chapter 10

Hoping that it wasn’t an omen for how her sleep schedule would be treating her on her press trip, Kirby climbed out of her bed at 3 am and made her way to her couch instead, hoping that a change in scenery would make her sleepy once more. 

 

The half-finished joint she’d left on the coffee table called to her invitingly from the ashtray. With a defeated sigh, she crossed the room to open the window and relit it, settling in uncomfortably on the floor. 

 

She had two interviews lined up for that day - and Fallon would have a car sent in the next four hours to pick her up. It was the last day before they flew out, and while Fallon did preach about using every possible moment that they had for productivity, she’d relented and scheduled their day to end early. Kirby knew she’d be half-asleep during the interviews, but knowing she could just come straight back home and sleep made her feel considerably better.

 

Pulling open the door, followed by the slightly rickety screen of the balcony from her spot on the floor, Kirby ashed the joint outside and let the cool air waft into her apartment. She tried to picture what Fallon would be doing, right then, but her brain angrily showed her a picture of the brunette, eyes closed, with a massive power cable sticking out of her back and into the wall. 

 

She felt guilty as soon as she snorted at the image, though Fallon had deserved everything she’d said to her yesterday. And the reassurance that she was actually interested in what Kirby was doing made her feel a little less annoyed with the entire situation. Having the brunette breathing down her neck constantly would have been much more enjoyable if she just learned to lighten up once in awhile. 

 

It  _ was _ weird that Kirby never once saw her with another person. She had originally chalked it up to her being a workaholic, but wasn’t sure anymore.

 

Already feeling her worries about the day fading out of her mind, Kirby flicked the roach from her hand over the edge of the balcony and stood up, shutting the door and locking it. She could try to get a bit of a nap in before she had to start getting ready for work. 

 

Climbing back into her bed, she scrolled through Alice’s instagram - Fallon had pettily deleted the app off of her phone altogether, but the browser view worked fine. The singer was already in New York, and the mix of blurry group pictures, selfies, and rooftop views made Kirby miss her immediately. She considered phoning her, then remembered the time - it was only be 6 am in New York, and there was no way that Alice was awake at that time on her day off. 

 

She scrolled for a little longer, smiling curiously when she saw Jeff’s name pop up under the top likes on one of Alice’s photos, and clicked through to his page instead. His page was considerably brighter than Alice’s had been - full of high-quality photos of himself with clients - Kirby recognized a few artists she knew - and his family. She scrolled for a little bit until she paused on a photo that was clearly taken at a work event - Jeff, and Fallon, stood out to Kirby amongst a group photo of strangers, and she quickly clicked the photo to bring up the tags. Everyone in the photo was linked to, except for Fallon. Frowning to herself and pulling up the search bar, she searched ‘Fallon Carrington’ - but none of the results were a match. 

 

She tried Twitter, next, and even Facebook - but she found nothing of value there, either. Googling her name brought up the Carrington PR firm’s company website, and a LinkedIn profile, but both of those were bare bones, too. Clicking on the official website, Kirby snuggled deeper into her covers and rolled onto her side, propping a pillow up under her cheek and preparing to research. The ‘Company Standards’ and ‘What We Do’ sections were about as generic as every other company that Kirby had come across, but her finger hovered over the ‘Our History’ link thoughtfully. 

 

Blinking the brightness out of her eyes when the page changed from black and gold to a suddenly stark white background, Kirby refocused on a photo of Fallon and a man that Kirby didn’t recognize, scrolling down to read the caption.

 

_ Blake Carrington, CEO, and daughter Fallon. _

 

Huh. She scrolled through the page for another moment, but there wasn’t another mention or photo of Fallon, so she backed out, scrolling through the homepage one last time to make sure that she hadn’t missed anything when she noticed the time.

 

_ 5:54AM. Shit. _

 

Plugging her phone in, frustrated with herself, Kirby rolled over and desperately willed herself to fall asleep, if only for twenty more minutes. Her eyes ached as she closed them, dry from the smoke and staring at a bright screen in the dark, but she ignored it and curled up under the blanket tightly. 

 

The next thing she knew, she was waking up to the sound of sharp rapping on her front door. Sitting up and glancing at her phone, she gasped out loud, and leapt to her feet. It was 7:00 on the dot - she needed to be at the first interview in only half an hour. Scrambling into a pair of jeans and pulling a cardigan around herself to give the illusion of being dressed and ready, she ran to open the door.

 

An equally tired - but considerably more put-together l - Fallon stood on the other side of it, arms crossed.

 

“Okay, I am-” Fallon took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m waving the white flag, here. Can you please give this a rest? Please? I don’t get the whole self-sabotage thing.”

 

Kirby held the door open wider, a pang of guilt surprising her as it hit her.

 

“I’m not self-sabotaging. I overslept. Come in.”

 

“We have to go,” Fallon insisted.

 

“I don’t even have a bra on. Just let me get dressed.”

 

Fallon sighed, stepping inside and Kirby reached around her to shut the door, suddenly extremely aware of how everything she was wearing had a  _ very  _ distinct green scent to it. If Fallon noticed, she didn’t say anything, instead walking further into the apartment and glancing around, unimpressed.

 

Kirby  _ had  _ cleaned since the last time Fallon had visited, but the stacked crates of whiskey in the corner were a new piece of decor, and the ashtray by the window was almost completely full. 

 

“I can’t believe you live here,” Fallon murmured, watching as Kirby vanished back down the hall toward her bedroom. She heard the brunette follow her, but ignored her, kicking her jeans off and stepping into a fresh pair as Fallon rounded the corner and leaned on the doorframe.

 

“I don’t take judgment from people who aren’t transparent about their own bullshit,” Kirby informed her.

 

“Is that you trying to get me to invite you over?” Fallon snorted. Kirby raised an eyebrow at her as she lifted her head from where she was doing up her pants, and then pulled her shirt up over her head, tossing it onto the bed. 

 

Fallon made a startled noise in the back of her throat and turned around, staring at the wall in the hallway instead. “Uhhh…”

 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Kirby pointed out, feeling a smug smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as she tracked down a bra and started to pull it on.

 

“What makes you think -?”

 

Kirby cut Fallon off.

 

“The movie?”

 

“Right.” Fallon was still refusing to look at her, which made her laugh under her breath and dig through her drawers for a shirt. “You should… hurry up. There’s coffee in the car.”

 

_ That  _ perked Kirby up a little bit, pulling a shirt out almost at random and tugging it over her head before using the hair tie around her wrist to pull her hair up into a tangled ponytail. Her skin had been looking clearer than ever lately, even without the production-supplied $400 facials, which she chalked up to the humidity being balanced out by the unrealistic amount of alcohol she had been consuming lately. Deep down, she knew that was insane, but it was a nice thought.

 

“Alright, I can do some makeup in the car. Let’s go.” Kirby watched Fallon’s body physically untense in relief, and hummed curiously to herself as she followed her out and back down the hallway. As fun as it was to watch her squirm, having Fallon in her own apartment like this made her feel just as uncomfortable as Fallon visibly was. She was as out of place as her Porsche parked outside was, but instead of looking overdressed, it made everything else just look more depressing than it already was; shock of the red that  _ could _ be, against the grey and beige background of her actual surroundings.

 

Fallon’s car had been detailed, she realized upon sliding inside. The next thing she noticed was the pile of DVDs in a Carrington PR tote bag at the foot of the passenger seat, which she reached for as the brunette made her way around to the driver’s side and climbed in as well.

 

“Hey, don’t touch.” Fallon pushed the bag down softly when Kirby tried to bring it up into her seat with her. “That isn’t yours.”

 

Kirby snorted, taking one of the coffees from the cupholder and taking a sip. Still warm. Perfect temperature for chugging. 

 

Letting the tote bag drop from her mind, she instead dug into her own purse and pulled out her mascara, giving Fallon a single warning before she started the car:

 

“Drive careful.”

 

Fallon snorted, shaking her head but seeming to heed the warning, occasionally glancing at the redhead as she pulled away into the road. She even occasionally warned her when turns in the navigation were coming up, until she had finally lowered the wand from her eyes and tucked it back into her bag.

 

“So, we’ve worked with these guys before. I’ve personally had a few actresses jump start their tours with them, but they tend to be a little bit… forward. And intense. So I figured we’d let them take second place, and then we can still bury them under the rest of your tour if we need to.”

 

Kirby watched Fallon while she spoke, applying a liberal amount of gloss and then smacking her lips loudly enough to make the brunette look at her before turning her attention back to the road.

 

“What kind of intense?” She asked.

 

“Scarily well-researched intense.” Her words made Kirby stiffen in her seat, but the brunette waved a hand. “Not about  _ you _ , about the movie. And the production. Nothing weird happened while you were filming, did it?”

 

Kirby shook her head. 

 

“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” she pointed out, honestly. “But I don’t think so.”

 

“Good. Just give me a signal if you need me to bail you out, alright? Take a sip of water or something.”

 

Kirby felt a little swell in her chest, feeling excited like she had the first time that she’d managed to properly connect with anything Fallon was doing for her. She abruptly remembered their conversation from the night before, and wondered whether she had knocked some sense into her, or if she’d just learned how to act to keep her comfortable. 

 

Either way she was too tired to fight it - even if the neutral reassurance was all an act, it was much more pleasant than a fight first thing in the morning.

 

“Sure, whatever you say.”

 

Fallon’s eyebrows shot up, but she kept her gaze on the road. Kirby had to fight the urge to laugh.

 

“Turning left,” Fallon said quickly, after a few moments, one hand shooting out as if she planned to hold it across Kirby’s chest. She seemed to change her mind at the last minute, though, instead lowering her hand back to the gear shift.

 

“My makeup is already done.” Kirby felt the grin spreading across her face and into her words. “Were you going to  _ mom arm  _ me?”

 

Fallon cleared her throat, parking the car. Kirby hadn’t even realized that they’d arrived.

 

“Okay, you’re already late, get out,” was the only answer she got.

 

Kirby laughed outright once she was on the street, watching Fallon pull away to the valet kiosk before heading into the lobby without her. 

 

The concierge directed her down the hallway toward one of the smaller conference rooms, and she let herself in quietly. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting - it looked exactly the same as every other interview set up she’d been to recently, but Fallon’s words had definitely gotten under her skin, at least a little.  _ Scarily well-researched.  _ She  _ knew  _ nothing weird or under the table had happened on her set, but the idea that they might have come across  _ something  _ she’d forgotten about made her nervous. She shouldn’t have pressed Fallon for details in the first place.  

 

She made her way over and introduced herself, getting mic’d and comfortable in the seat before glancing around for Fallon again. She supposed she might have deserved it, if she had just decided to leave her there by herself, but, all things considered, it felt like their morning had been one of the first pleasant ones they’d had in a while.

 

“Hey, so, we don’t have a set script, but is there anything that you want completely off the table before we start?”

 

Kirby tore her gaze from the door to the woman in front of her and smiled a little bit, shaking her head. 

 

“No, but I need to wait for my publicist, so-”

 

Fallon pushed both double doors open and strode in, marching directly up to Kirby’s side and leaning over with a sheet of paper for the interviewer.

 

“Absolutely no mention of the state of the Australian government versus ours, don’t bring up the director’s wife, and I  _ know  _ you know about Alice Alby, so leave her out of it, too. This interview is about  _ my  _ client,” Kirby jumped in surprise when Fallon’s hands were suddenly pressing down on her shoulders. “And  _ her  _ movie. Are we clear?”

 

“Absolutely, Ms. Carrington.” The woman smiled up at Fallon innocently, and Kirby held her breath for a beat before Fallon’s hands dropped from her shoulders. She didn’t dare turn around so that she could see where Fallon was - and didn’t have to; the brunette dragged her guest seat around the entire set up, loudly filling the tense silence with the sound of metal scraping on vinyl, and set it behind the video village area. Taking a seat and clearing her throat, she gave Kirby one last reassuring look, and then pulled her phone out to busy herself while the interview was conducted.

 

Kirby was basically on autopilot, trying to keep her gaze from glazing over as she was asked the same questions that she had been parroting back answers to for what felt like her entire lifetime by then. 

 

“So, this movie has  _ Oscar buzz _ written all over it. Was that going through your head at all when you saw the finished product?”

 

Kirby glanced at Fallon for a split second, when the brunette’s head snapped up and she made a cutting gesture to her throat. Trying not to smile to herself, she turned her gaze back to the woman beside the camera and shook her head.

 

“It would be an  _ honor  _ just to be nominated.”

 

She watched Fallon grin at her phone, then smiled at the interviewer once more.

 

“Don’t you feel that you sort of… went the extra mile, though? I mean - especially in today’s times - it’s a lot to ask from a breakout actress to undress on camera without being able to promise a high production value and solid artistic backing.”

 

Kirby desperately wanted to turn to Fallon again, but forced herself to appear relaxed, staring directly at the woman in front of her as her mind raced.

 

“I’m sorry - what was the question?”

 

“In the movie. You have a love scene - it’s your first film, I was just pointing out that it’s a big risk to take unless you’re being promised some sort of a kickback.”

 

“Right,” Kirby started, then shook her head, “I mean, no, I just. I heard that part. Was there a question, though?”

 

She watched as the woman worked to smooth over the attempted curveball and quickly swigged from her water bottle. She waited a beat, but Fallon didn’t appear to be moving in her peripherals, so she took another sip, clearing her throat into it and hearing it echo into the plastic. 

 

“I, personally think that you did outstanding work. The concern is always just that the end-product comes across as too… male-gaze oriented.”

 

Kirby clutched her bottle in both hands.

  
“I suppose that is always a possibility.” Her voice almost wavered, but she swallowed hard and kept it as neutral as possible, even forcing a tiny, weak smile as she spoke. “But we do our best -  _ I  _ did my best - to make sure that it was tasteful and important to the scene.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What the  _ fuck  _ happened to you back there?” Kirby snapped, shoving a cigarette between her lips and barely even making it out of the front door of the hotel before lighting it. 

The traffic outside was loud and bustling, but she took such a sharp first drag of smoke that she could hear the paper crackling under the heat. 

“Kirby,  _ relax,  _ it wasn’t that bad, you did fine!” Fallon insisted, trying to keep up with her as she marched toward the valet kiosk. “I was busy - our next cancelled on us, I wanted an explanation.”

“I gave you the signal!” Kirby exclaimed, whirling around so quickly that the brunette had to stop herself from walking directly into her. She shook the mostly empty water bottle aggressively at her, watching Fallon wince away a little from the crinkling sound of it. 

“You didn’t even need me to bail you out!” Fallon pointed out. “You were perfectly fine, and that woman looked like an asshole. Please calm down.”

Kirby took another drag from her cigarette, flinging the water bottle toward the nearest trash can and missing entirely. 

Fallon watched it hit the side of the can and roll away, being picked up by a breeze and whisked into the street, before turning to Kirby again. The look on her face took the redhead by surprise, though, and she found herself struggling to maintain her glare when Fallon widened her eyes and sighed quietly.

“I’m sorry that you felt overwhelmed. But you handled it perfectly fine.”

Kirby softened - half of her mind immediately screamed in protest, arguing with the half that was suddenly completely endeared by the woman in front of her. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” she insisted.

“Fine. But I stand by what I said, and - hang on, I have to take this.” Fallon turned away from Kirby and handed the valet her ticket, picking up her phone. “Hey! Did you get my text?”

Kirby turned her attention back to the road, and considered picking up the water bottle she’d thrown, but Fallon’s voice cut through the background noise and she perked up.

“No, my afternoon just opened up. Looks like I can do lunch after all. Yeah? Perfect, I missed you. Oh, yeah, I’m just around the corner, actually. Let me get my client a car, we’re just finishing up here.”

Kirby turned to face her now, watching as she hung up and turned back to her, jumping a little when she realized she was being stared at.

“Who was that?” Kirby asked, a smirk spreading across her face.

“Hm?” Fallon’s eyebrows rose quickly, and she looked at her phone as if it had a better excuse for her. “No one. Change of plans, though. I’ll get you a car.”

Flagging down the valet, Fallon called him back over to cancel her pickup, then tapped away at her phone in silence for a few moments.

“Y’know what?” Kirby watched her, quirking an eyebrow. “I actually really need to eat. I can get my own car, I’m going to go, uhhh…” She looked around for a moment, then pointed at the nearest restaurant-looking building she could see.

Fallon followed her gaze, frowning in confusion for a moment before shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll see you on the tarmac tomorrow morning.  _ Don’t  _ be late.” She pointed right at her, and Kirby resisted the urge to swat her hand away.

She finished her cigarette on the spot, watching Fallon wander toward the corner of the street and take a right turn, waiting until she disappeared around the building before butting out the smoke and trailing along behind her. 

For a woman in heels, she walked surprisingly fast, and Kirby panicked when she rounded the corner and she couldn’t immediately see where Fallon had gone to. She looked around frantically for a moment before spotting her vanishing into a nearby restaurant and sighing in defeat. Realizing how  _ insane  _ her stalking plan had been to begin with, she fished around in her bag for her pack of cigarettes and lit a second one, leaning against the wall of the building behind her and enjoying the brief moment of shade from the sun. Her afternoon was wide open, and despite her tiredness that morning, she now felt too awake to simply go home and rest. Just as she was about to wander down the street to see what she could find to entertain herself, she spotted Fallon making her way from the restaurant’s interior to the attached sidewalk patio, and could see even from across the street how her face completely brightened in excitement as she made her way to one of the patio tables. 

With his back to Kirby, a man got up from his own seat and immediately hugged Fallon when she approached, and the two exchanged what Kirby assumed were hellos, but she couldn’t properly make them out from her spot. She watched Fallon settle in, trying to gauge if the meeting was professional or not - but judging by the phone call she’d overheard back at the hotel, it was much more likely a personal date. 

Still, it was jarringly new to see the way Fallon lit up when she talked and smiled genuinely - Kirby was floored at the sight of her laughing, and seemingly not at anyone else’s expense - and she found herself watching until she’d completely smoked the new cigarette down to the filter. 

Maybe she’d been wrong about the other woman not being able to date or make friends. That, or Fallon was as good at manipulating everyone around her as she was with Kirby. Feeling a surprisingly irritated pull in her chest, Kirby stomped the smoke out and turned to head back around the corner she’d come from. It wasn’t that she was a complete robot; that was just how she chose to act around  _ Kirby _ the majority of the time. She’d been so stuck on proving that Fallon  _ was _ an actual person that she hadn’t really realized the implications of  _ why _ she personally never got to see it firsthand.

Passing the valet parking lot, Kirby put her sunglasses on and slid, unnoticed, past a group of paparazzi that were crowded outside of the hotel entrance to wait for someone else on their way out. It wasn’t until she was in the clear that she had the cold realization that she was increasingly able to handle situations that she would have sworn she needed Fallon for perfectly on her own. It was a much warmer realization, though, that despite being able to handle a few curveballs by herself, she much preferred it when Fallon was around.


	11. Chapter 11

Fallon had just climbed into her car and buckled her seatbelt when her phone buzzed next to her in the cup holder. She sighed loudly as she reached for it - she was already almost running late and didn’t need any more distractions - cringing when she realized that it was Kirby.

 

Expecting the worst, she was pleasantly surprised when she read the messages on the screen.

 

_ [7:05AM] Kirby Anders: uh idk where this car is going but it isn’t LAX _ _   
_ _ [7:05AM] Kirby Anders: if i’m late it’s bc of an attempted kidnapping _ _   
_ __ [7:05AM] Kirby Anders: water my cactus for me when i’m dead

 

Fallon smirked to herself and started her engine, letting her phone sync up to the Bluetooth in the car as she made her way out of her parking garage. With one eye on the road and one eye on the center screen, she scrolled to Kirby’s name and hit ‘call’, rolling her shoulders tiredly as the loud ringing suddenly filled the vehicle.

 

“Hey, Fallon-”

 

“You’re not late,” Fallon cut her off, already hearing the nervous energy in her voice. “Actually,  _ I’m  _ late. I’ll meet you there soon. We’re taking the jet.”

 

There was silence for a moment, and then Kirby’s voice again.

 

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

 

Fallon snorted, trying to regain her composure and keep the amused smile out of her voice before speaking again.

 

“Look, just… get settled when you get there, I’ll be there soon.”

 

She hung up before Kirby could say another word, reaching for the water in her cup holder and taking a sip to try to force the smirk off of her face. 

 

As she pulled up to a red light, she reached for her purse and pushed it open on the passenger seat, fishing around and double-checking for her freshly refilled Xanax - and breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that she had remembered to bring it. 

 

Flying was easily in her top three least favorite methods of travel. The private planes and jets made it a little more comfortable, though, and when they couldn’t do that, it was at least a comfort on its own to be alone, so that no one else could see her in any state of unravel. 

 

Today, though, she wouldn’t be alone.

 

The nice thing was that Kirby would probably want to dip into the bar as soon as they were airborne, which would leave Fallon to drug herself up nicely and (hopefully) pass out for the entire four hour flight. Minimizing her audience down to just Kirby, who, despite her constant antagonizing, seemed at least still a  _ little  _ intimidated by her, was something she’d have to remember to pretend to thank Cristal for later; t had been her soon-to-be stepmother’s suggestion that they take the jet. Blake hadn’t been too excited about the idea, but Cristal  _ insisted  _ that it would be worth it - Fallon was pretty sure they were trying to bribe her into reconsidering coming to the wedding. 

 

Kirby was there before she was, and Fallon could feel the excited energy radiating off of her despite her obvious outward attempt to be cool. As tiresome as Kirby’s childish questions and naiveté could be, sometimes, it was a little refreshing for Fallon to see someone so genuinely excited about the things that she’d slowly begun to take for granted. 

 

“This is a first, you beating me,” Fallon greeted as she climbed inside, immediately dropping her purse and turning to make herself a drink.

 

“I could be early every time if it has perks like this,” Kirby promised, leaning back in her own reclining seat comfortably and running her fingers over the leather armrests. 

 

Fallon snorted, shaking her head to herself and pouring two glasses of scotch and handing one to Kirby as she sat down across from her. 

 

The redhead took the glass and chuckled.

 

“I was just going to have coffee, but this works, too. I thought you didn’t like to drink while you were working.”

 

Fallon shrugged a little. 

 

“This isn’t work, not until we land.” She propped her feet up on the closest ottoman and noticed Kirby’s gaze slide from her heels up to her waist before darting back up to meet her own gaze.  _ Caught. _

 

“When do interviews start?” Kirby asked, clearing her throat and looking away.

 

“We’ll pretty much get off the plane and head straight there. We can eat when we get back, have an early night, then leave for New York first thing tomorrow.”

 

Kirby sipped her drink and tapped her nails against the glass thoughtfully.

 

“I’ve never been to Chicago. Kind of sad we can’t stay any longer.”

 

“It’s not that great.” Fallon had meant to make her feel better, but the redhead just laughed.

 

“You’re too negative - it’s too early, at least let me properly wake up first.”

 

“ _ I’m  _ too negative?” Fallon opened her mouth to list off Kirby’s attitude and behaviour from the last few days, but changed her mind, and sighed. “Fine. Chicago is  _ amazing  _ and you’re missing out completely by just stopping over. In fact, this is probably going in the ‘top ten worst things that have ever happened to you’ book. Better?”

 

Kirby grinned at her. 

 

“Much.”

 

“We’re about ready to go, ladies.” Fallon glanced up at the stewardess and smiled tightly, remembering that the next part of the trip involved the actual flight. 

 

“Ready when you are,” Kirby supplied for her, smiling much more brightly before slamming the last of her drink back and setting the glass down into her cupholder. 

 

Waiting until the redhead was properly distracted, Fallon took her first pill and closed her eyes to take a few deep breaths.

 

Kirby snapped her out of it, though.

 

“So how much money does  _ owning  _ the jet really save you?”

 

Fallon sighed, opening her eyes.

 

“Owning the jet is about convenience and comfort.”  Fallon glanced at Kirby, but she was busy staring out the window at the tarmac. “And it isn’t my jet - it’s technically my father’s.”

 

Fallon listened to the engines rumble to life and closed her eyes again.

 

“Well, this was awfully generous of him,” Kirby insisted. 

 

“It’s a bribe.” Fallon heard the words fall out of her mouth, but had gone too far to take them back now. It was like the floodgate had been opened. “He thinks - his  _ fiancee _ thinks - that them doing this for me means I’ll be indebted into doing something for them. Like, skipping the Hamptons festival to go to their wedding.”

 

“It sounds like he really wants you there,” Kirby tried, and Fallon could hear the careful sympathy in her voice. 

 

“It’s not that he wants me there, it’s that he doesn’t want me to be  _ absent.”  _ Kirby looked confused, so she explained, “It looks bad for him if I don’t show up. My brother isn’t exactly his favourite person, either, but if  _ he  _ can make the effort after a year of public arguing, people will talk if I don’t come.”

 

“You have a brother?” Kirby’s face lit up, but Fallon reached for her pills and took a second one as the cross-check was completed, trying to sink into her seat further.

 

“Yeah. But I’m going to try to sleep so if you could just…” she gestured dismissively, to which Kirby, most likely just out of surprise, turned her seat to face away from the brunette entirely. 

 

When she was sure that the redhead was no longer paying any attention to her at all, Fallon pulled the nearest blanket onto herself and buried her body in it up to her chin. It was a short flight. Once she survived the liftoff, she’d have one or two more drinks, maybe another benzo, and then sleep through the flight.

 

_ If  _ she survived the liftoff. 

 

The sound of the engine outside roared in her ears and she desperately willed the anti-anxiety medication to kick in faster. 

 

By the time they were tilting back and taking off from the ground, Fallon could  _ feel  _ Kirby staring a hole into her from her other seat, though, mercifully, she was quiet. She buried the lower half of her face into the blanket to try to muffle her breathing, squeezing her eyes shut at the first drop in her stomach and keeping them closed until she was sure they’d fully levelled out. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

Finally, Kirby spoke, her words punctuated by the sound of the seatbelt sign dinging ‘off’. 

 

The rush of relief that hit Fallon as soon as the plane stilled made her feel suddenly exhausted - that, or the medication had - and she barely lifted her head to look over at the other woman in response.

 

“I have gravol. If you feel sick.”

 

Unable to properly form any kind of statement of relief, Fallon detangled one hand from the blanket and held it out expectantly, rolling her shoulders when Kirby scrambled to dig through her own bag.

 

Dropping a pill into Fallon’s hand, she stood up and made her way back to the bar.

 

“If you’re getting up, can I get a drink?” Fallon heard her own voice come out crackled, and gravelly, and instantly felt thirstier than she already had.

 

“I was just getting water.” Kirby sounded like she was being accused of something, whirling around to look at the brunette almost impatiently.

 

Fallon quirked an eyebrow.

 

“Oh… kay. Well, can you still get me a drink?”

 

Kirby turned around and dipped down to the mini-fridge, fishing around for a moment and then snapping the cap off of a bottle of beer and holding it out for her.

 

Looking up at the other woman incredulously, Fallon took the cold bottle from her hands and maintained eye contact as she took a long swig. It was better than nothing, and watching Kirby’s smug smirk turn into a look of mild surprise was worth it entirely. 

 

“You planning to take that gravol with that, or just hope the carbs do the work for you?”

 

Fallon glanced at the pill in her other hand and quickly tossed it back before she could forget. At least it would put her to sleep soon enough.

 

“D’you ever just take this and go hide on some tropical island when you’re tired of real life?” Kirby gestured around the plane as she got comfortable in her own seat again.

 

“No,” Fallon sighed, already feeling the Xanax working away within her. Now that the movement around them was almost imperceptible, she let herself let go a little.

 

“Why not?” Kirby’s voice had been so irritating a moment before, but now it sounded comfortably fuzzy. Everything about her felt warm.

 

“Because I don’t have  _ time  _ in between babysitting you and everything else on my plate.”

 

Kirby hummed thoughtfully, sucking her lip into her mouth and gnawing on it for a moment before lighting up again mischievously. 

 

“Well, you could just take me with you, then. I’ve never been to Bora Bora.”

 

“Yeah, being stranded on an island in a hut with you sounds like a perfect way to de-stress,” Fallon huffed sarcastically. 

 

“Those huts are big. The ones on the water?” Kirby kicked her feet up as if she were really settling in to properly plan their hypothetical trip. “I bet we could spend two weeks there and never even cross each other’s paths. Just meet up again on the runway when it’s time to head home.”

 

Fallon drained the rest of the beer in her bottle surprisingly quickly, and set it down next to her seat.

 

“Would you pass me another drink?” she asked.

 

“Who works for who, here?” Kirby snorted, though she was already hoisting herself up in her seat.

 

“You’re  _ closer!”  _ Fallon heard the whininess in her tone and tried to dial it back, but her inhibitions were muddled by drowsiness. 

 

“You’re going to be crossfaded by the time we land,” Kirby told her, holding the beer out and then snatching it back out of her reach before she could take it, adding warningly: “If you pass out, I’m going to polish off the rest of the fridge while you’re knocked and can’t stop me.”

 

Fallon snorted at the threat, reaching for the bottle again, but Kirby held it out of her reach.

 

“I’m serious. Don’t be a hypocrite.” 

 

Glaring at the redhead more insistently, Fallon lowered her hand and opened her mouth to begin what she  _ hoped  _ would be an intimidating speech about staying in her own goddamn lane, when Kirby’s warning look suddenly turned back into a smirk and she pressed the ice cold bottle to Fallon’s exposed ankle.

 

Whatever speech was about to come from her was replaced with a yelp, causing the redhead to laugh as she scrambled to sit up and grabbed the bottle from her roughly. 

 

“Jesus,” Fallon groaned, taking a quick sip. “It’s like flying with a toddler.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kirby rolled her eyes and got back into her spot, shaking her head as she pulled out her headphones. “Lighten up, Fallon.”

 

* * *

 

 

She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but a sharp bounce of turbulence woke Fallon up with a start. Remembering where she was - and who she was with -  she whipped her head around to see Kirby’s reaction, assuming she must’ve startled the other woman too, only to find her fast asleep. 

Fully sprawled out on the couch behind her seat, Kirby was tucked under another throw blanket surrounded by a couple of empty bottles - a few tipped over from the unsteady air, Fallon assumed. As the plane bobbed once more, Kirby scrunched her brow in concentration and tightened the blanket around herself, but didn’t wake.

Giving herself a moment to calm her frantic heart rate, Fallon gripped both armrests of her seat and waited to make sure that the plane was done shaking before standing herself up and shakily making her way to the fridge to open it.

Empty. 

Glancing back at Kirby, she cursed inwardly for a moment before spotting the bottle of beer hanging from her fingers by the neck. Still full. 

Stepping past the mess of empties, Fallon double-checked that Kirby was still asleep before reaching down and pulling the bottle from her hand as carefully and gently as possible. 

Just as she was about to make her escape back to her own seat, the redhead stirred, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I was drinking that.”

“You were sleeping, and it was going to go flat.”

“Fine.” Kirby sat up properly and shoved her hair from her face, holding a hand out. “Give it back, then.”

“No, it’s mine now.” 

Kirby got up from the couch and steadied herself on her half-asleep legs by gripping the nearest chair back. 

“No, give it.” 

She stepped closer to Fallon, one hand out, and the brunette felt a sudden excited spark fly up her spine. She could only compare it to the feeling of finally getting the attention of whatever boy she liked at the moment, managing to make them chase her in high school despite a mock-protest on her end. She felt herself smiling in spite of her earlier worry, twisting away protectively as the redhead drew closer and holding the bottle out of her reach. 

_ Do you even want someone else’s half-finished flat beer?  _ The voice in her head asked her knowingly, but she squashed the thought and shook her head.

“Seriously, sit down. You’ve had enough, I’ve been more than fair.”

Just as Kirby was about to cross the aisle to her, the plane jumped - Fallon felt it in her stomach more than in the actual plane itself - and Kirby quickly grabbed the chair again to steady herself. 

“Wow,” she sighed, standing upright as the moment passed before taking in the sight of Fallon, who was no longer loosely holding the bottle out to her side but instead gripping it in both hands, having sunk back into her blanket pile. “Hey, are you good?”

Not meeting her eye, Fallon reached for her pill bottle and took one more, checking the time on her phone as she did. They’d only been in the air for about two and a half hours - she still had almost half of the flight to go.

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you’ve been popping whatever that is like candy, and I’ve never seen you drink three drinks in a sitting - let alone  _ beer _ \- not to even get started on how you’re acting like a turtle.”

Fallon glanced down at herself and slowly stretched her legs back onto the rest in front of her seat.

“Better?” she asked.

Kirby sunk down next to her instead of into her own seat, startling her. 

“You don’t have to be freaked out.”

“I’m not freaked out. I was woken up by fucking…  _ wind  _ knocking the giant disease-suctioning metal tube we’re in around in the sky. Give me a second.”

Kirby’s eyebrows almost vanished into her hairline, but she stayed crouched in her spot.

“Not a fan of flying, huh.” 

Fallon turned to her properly and sighed, taking a sip from the bottle and wincing at the flatness of it.

“No one is  _ really  _ a fan of flying.”

Kirby shrugged and stood up.

“I don’t have a big enough experience pool to draw from. This is only my second flight.”

Fallon’s eyes widened and followed the redhead back to her seat. 

“Pardon me?”

Kirby blinked in confusion as she sat down, tilting her head and repeating slowly: “This is only my second flight?”

“How…  _ what?” _

Kirby shrugged.

“LA from Australia, and now Chicago from LA.”

Fallon grinned, feeling a warmth spread over her as she took another sip from the bottle in her hands. 

“I like how you say ‘LA’.  _ Ellay. _ ”

Kirby watched her for a moment, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“You’re high.”

“Shut up.”

Kirby twitched her eyebrows playfully.

“I’m not letting this go, you getting high out of your mind on a work trip. I might let it slide if you wanted to talk about how stressed out you are - but since you’re so calm and collected and  _ totally  _ not a nervous flier, I guess you have no excuse and I’ll have to rib you for your inappropriate behaviour forever.”

Fallon sighed heavily.

“I’m just tired. I need sleep - in a real bed.”

“Uh-huh.” Kirby nodded with a very sarcastic ‘sure, absolutely’ sort of expression, then sat down across from Fallon instead of in her own seat. “What you  _ need  _ is distraction. You wanna watch a movie?”

Immediately, the panting, gasping audio from  _ Splintered Men  _ flooded her mind.

“No!” she replied, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. “I mean… no. I’m going to try to go back to sleep.” 

“Fine, I’ll leave you to it.” Kirby popped her headphones back in, and propped her feet up next to Fallon’s seat. 

It was too quiet for the first few minutes. Fallon stared boredly out the window, missing the conversation, not that she’d admit it out loud. 

Her eyes grew heavy over the next ten minutes of calm sky, and before she knew it, she was being jolted awake by the wheels hitting the ground.

“Sorry-” Kirby tried to apologize, but her voice sounded muffled from the ringing in Fallon’s ears. “I thought the anticipation might be worse than just getting it over with. And you were sleeping  _ hard.” _

Waving a hand dismissively, Fallon sat upright and tried to reorient herself. She’d made it; that was the important part. 

“Forget it, I - let’s just go to the hotel.” She heard her words come out a little slurred and winced inwardly.

“Jesus, how many of those pills did you take? Could I have killed you with that gravol? Did I just escape a manslaughter charge? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

_ “Kirby.” _ Fallon’s tone immediately brought the other woman’s teasing to a halt, and she glared at the middle ground as she hoisted herself out of her seat to stretch her legs. “Give it a rest. This is day one, I don’t think you guys pay me enough to put up with many more days of this kind of torture.”

Surprisingly, the other woman softened, grabbing Fallon’s bag for her when she went to reach for it.

“Sorry. I’m excited.” 

Holding out the purse, she half-smiled hopefully, and Fallon recognized it as an olive branch, sighing quietly as she hiked her bag up onto her shoulder.

“It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

With that, she marched them both out of the cabin and towards the exit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this update being so short! Chapter 13 is on the way and is already much more substantial! I appreciate everyone still keeping up with this fic so much. ♡

“Knock knock, babe, let’s get a fucking move on!” 

 

Fallon’s voice was muffled through the door that separated their rooms, but Kirby still felt herself jump to attention - even though she was already up. Something about the almost always authoritative tone that the brunette used as a default made her feel like she was never moving quickly enough, even when she was.

 

Putting down her lip gloss and heading over to the door, Kirby swung it open and immediately felt a little bump of smugness hit her when Fallon’s expression turned to from one of impatience to pleasant surprise.

 

“Oh, you’re like… ready.”

 

“Yeah? You said 5 o clock.” 

 

Leaving Fallon in the doorway, she wandered back into her room and toward the bathroom to finish her makeup.

 

“Yeah, well, we aren’t really leaving until 5:30, I thought you might need some wiggle room.”

 

“Well, I didn’t, but now you can buy me a coffee to fill our extra time.”

 

Fallon sighed quietly but didn’t protest - obviously she agreed that the terms were fair. 

 

“What’re you going to be doing while I’m interviewing?” She asked from where she was leaned against the counter in front of the mirror.

 

“What do you mean?” Fallon asked from the other room. “I’ll be there.”

 

Kirby poked her head out of the bathroom.

 

“You don’t… have to. I’m sure I can handle being asked the same ten questions over and over again on my own.”

 

“Wow.” Fallon grinned at her from where she was perched on the edge of the bed. “Look how far you’ve come. Going from practically begging me to hold your hand, and now you’re too cool for your own publicist to sit in on your press junket.”

 

Kirby rolled her eyes, but immediately scooted back into the bathroom when she could feel a blush beginning to heat her face. 

 

“Can’t you just compliment me like a normal person?”

 

Fallon laughed, asking, “You’ve known me how long?”

 

“Six weeks,” Kirby hummed, squinting at her reflection and then scrunching her hair between her hands.

 

There was a silent moment before Fallon laughed again.

 

“Jesus, and you didn’t get me anything for our  _ monthiversary _ ? Quick, how many days is six weeks? Hours? Are we going steady?”

 

Kirby poked her head out of the bathroom again. 

 

“You’re very annoying. But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

 

_ That _ shut the brunette up, clearly not wanting to be reminded of the day they’d just had. 

 

“All ready.” Kirby emerged from the bathroom one last time and tossed her lip gloss into her purse, reaching over Fallon to scoop it up onto her shoulder. “Where are you buying me a coffee from?”

 

Fallon sighed as she stood, hiking her own bag up and starting toward the door.

 

“There’s a Starbucks around the corner that we can make it to  _ if  _ we’re quick.”

 

“I’m always quick.” 

 

Kirby nearly smacked into Fallon’s back as if the brunette had stopped dead in the doorway to process what she’d just heard, before continuing on, mercifully holding her tongue.

 

Once out of the hotel, Kirby took a moment to take in her new surroundings. The metropolitan area around them was glowing in the early evening light- busy, just like home, but with an entirely different feel. She wanted to walk around;blow off her interviews and spend the rest of the night wandering and enjoying being somewhere entirely new, but Fallon gently gripped her elbow and suddenly steered her to the left,  around the corner and into the coffee shop before she could accidentally meander too far off. 

 

“How many times have you been here?” Kirby asked her as she reapproached after leaving her to wait while she retrieved two coffees. 

 

“What, in this Starbucks?”

 

“No, Chicago.” Taking her cup gratefully and popping the lid off to let it cool down quicker, Kirby watched the brunette pick out a stir stick from the accessory bar and tuck it into her lid.

 

“I dunno. Fifteen, sixteen times?”

 

Kirby whistled lowly under her breath.

 

“It sucks we aren’t here for longer.” 

 

“I guess,” Fallon shrugged, leading her back out onto the street. “It’s just a big city. We happen to live in one. They’re pretty much all the same.”

 

“How can you say that?” Kirby asked, rolling her eyes as she fell into step beside her. 

 

Fallon scoffed. “You moved here from  _ Australia.  _ You of all people deserve to find LA, Chicago, whatever…  _ ugly _ . If that wasn’t where the work was, I think I would have left a while ago.” 

 

Kirby shrugged, thinking it over for a moment.

 

“I think LA is pretty.”

 

Fallon just shook her head, sipping her coffee. Kirby wasn’t sure if it was a disappointed gesture or one of dismissive disagreement, but the two of them fell into silence as they made their way back into the hotel lobby. Turning away from the bank of elevators that would have led them back to the room, the two women instead made their way to the conference hall and headed inside. 

 

For the first time since the campaign had started, Kirby felt incredibly bored. The interviews were becoming repetitive, the slow increase in attention made her want to hide in her apartment half of the day, and not being allowed to actually enjoy her traveling or free time or even her  _ money  _ without Fallon breathing down her neck made her feel like she was trapped in a cage at the party of the year.

 

It was hard to stay enthused when almost everyone that she talked to hadn’t even seen the movie. The questions felt completely baseless, and even though she’d enjoyed the trailer when it was first released, she was beginning to see that it sold a slightly different story than the one she’d felt like they were telling. 

 

In the last screening that they’d had together as a cast and crew, she’d felt an excited energy in the room. They’d all made something  _ good  _ and everyone there was proud of it, but now, question after question about the men she’d worked with or the crew members that were previously famous for aggressive outbursts just made her feel like everything special they’d done was being tossed into the blender with the rest of the movies that were popping up before and after theirs. 

 

The interviews blurred together, and more than once she found herself forgetting who it was that she was talking to, needing to be corrected on occasion.  _ Not Buzzfeed _ , this was  _ Yahoo.  _ It was hard to keep her eyes from glazing over. 

 

If this specific night of work was any indication for how the rest of the mini press junket was going to go, she was no longer even looking forward to New York. What good was it being in one of the greatest cities in the world, but stuck in a stuffy hotel room while being kept to a two-drink minimum by her publicist? 

 

“Are you ready?” Fallon’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she glanced up, only to notice that the two of them were finally alone again. She’d auto-piloted through three short interviews without even paying attention. “You were staring off into space. You’re not strung out, are you?”

 

“On what? Gravol and the single watered down cocktail I was allowed to have?” Kirby stood up, shaking the dryness from her eyes and then rolling them.

 

“Oh, you poor thing. A twenty dollar cocktail was all you were allowed to have while doing your  _ job _ .” 

 

Fallon started to lead the way out of the conference room with Kirby hot on her heels.

 

“Sorry for being  _ tired  _ from  _ flying  _ and then going  _ straight to work  _ right after,” she huffed.

 

Fallon laughed sarcastically, speeding her steps up a little.

 

“Oh my  _ god,  _ you are  _ literally  _ the most ungrateful person I think I’ve ever met,” Fallon informed her. “And that is  _ really  _ saying something, trust me.”

 

“Ungrateful,” Kirby repeated, following Fallon into the elevator and slamming the ‘close doors’ button before they could be followed. “I’m  _ ungrateful _ ? I didn’t say that I-”

 

“I’ve seen your apartment. Don’t try to pretend not to comprehend how lucky you are. I know you’re not that vapid.” 

 

Fallon’s words froze her on the spot, but she snapped out of it to answer her.

 

“ _ You  _ are the one who said I was talented, not lu-”

 

“Lots of people are talented.” Fallon cut her off. “Not all of them make six million dollars nearly overnight.  _ That  _ is what makes you sound like a brat.”

 

Her words stopped Kirby altogether, and as the elevator doors dinged open, she stayed behind when Fallon stepped out, the doors nearly sliding shut and sending her back downstairs before she finally snapped out of it and followed her down the hallway. 

 

“Fallon, you can’t -”

 

Fallon slid her key card into her own door and turned around to Kirby before opening it, one eyebrow raised impatiently. What was she even going to say?  _ You can’t talk to me like that _ ?  _ You can’t say something like that and walk away _ ? 

 

When no words came to her, Fallon nodded once and turned back around, pushing her door open and shutting it behind her with a soft ‘click’ before Kirby could follow. 

 

Turning and heading into her own attached room instead, Kirby flopped down onto the freshly made bed face-first and groaned into her pillow. 

 

She hadn’t been totally correct - she knew Fallon just had a tendency to over-criticize and see the worst in her.

 

It wasn’t that she was ungrateful, she just… worked hard. She wasn’t used to the level of work she was being shoved into and it was an adjustment. Anyone with an ounce of empathy would have been able to see where she was coming from. 

 

Still, though, she had… a bit of a point. It was a fairly hefty payday, and while the work had been and still was draining, she thought of her friends who were still pushing to keep their heads above the water while working just as hard.

 

Rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling, Kirby blindly reached for her purse with one arm and pulled out both her wallet and cigarettes. She knew Fallon would  _ know  _ if she snuck out, which made her feel like a grounded teenager (though, she was pretty sure that was the exact phrasing and imagery that the publicist had been aiming for), but that didn’t mean she was going to let herself lay there, bored and sober for the whole evening. 

 

Sitting up and grabbing the hotel phone, she dialed for room service as she dug through her wallet and found her credit card as the call was picked up at the desk downstairs.

 

“Hi! I’d like to order up on  a separate card, is that okay - yes? Thank you.” She tried to sound both cheerful and keep her voice down in case Fallon heard her next door. “I wanted to know if the bar was still open - perfect. Could I please get…”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s like one step forward and two steps backwards, with you,” Fallon greeted, loudly kicking the makeshift ashtray that Kirby had made out of an empty champagne bottle to the side. 

Sitting up and wincing at the sunlight, Kirby groaned quietly and rolled her shoulders. Patio furniture was a terrible substitute for a warm bed.

“At least I’m wearing pants this time,” she bargained.

She must’ve fallen asleep outside the night before, but she was shocked that the loud sounds of the traffic below hadn’t woken her. A glance at the empty champagne bottles around her on the balcony explained that mystery pretty quickly.

“We have a flight to catch.” Fallon’s voice sounded considerably more tired than it did angry, and she handed Kirby her pack of cigarettes when they proved to be just out of her reach on the table. 

“I think I’m still drunk,” Kirby sighed, tucking a cigarette between her lips and lighting it before hoisting herself up to stand closer to the balcony railing. 

“You know,” Fallon made her way over as well, but after a quick glance over the ledge at the massive drop below, she turned her back to the view and looked at Kirby instead. “If  _ this  _ is what’s going to make you happy, then fine. But you need to promise me you’re going to show up and do the work.”

Kirby looked over at her as she took another long drag, tilting her head away to keep her eyes locked on the brunette’s as she exhaled away from their faces.

“I can do that.”

“Okay. Then let’s go. I already packed up your shit.” Fallon’s tone changed from gentle to all-business in one fell swoop, and she turned to make her way back into the room. “And put that out before you come in here, those extra cleaning fees are criminal!” She called from within.

Pulling the elastic off her wrist with her cigarette balanced between her teeth, Kirby pulled her tangled hair back into a bun and steeled herself for the hangover, tinged flight ahead.

One more city, and then home. She was beginning to miss her shitty little apartment already.


	13. Chapter 13

Fallon didn’t want to jinx it, but once they’d landed in New York, Kirby seemed to have woken up as a new woman. The spark was clearly extinguished from her eyes, but she was helpful - she didn’t complain once when Fallon suggested that they have an early night after dinner - and while it originally made her a little suspicious, wondering if the redhead planned to retire to her room with another hidden bottle, she ultimately seemed genuine.

 

Kirby actually suggested their spot for dinner, and Fallon wanted to ask if had anything to do with Alice - the worst case scenario in her mind was that they’d ‘run into her’ because she’d told Kirby they didn’t have time for her to properly hang out with her - but she held her tongue and decided to see if this ‘new Kirby’ would behave or not. 

 

Alice was nowhere to be seen, though, and Kirby barely even looked up from her phone as she asked the hostess to seat them near the back. 

 

“How’d you know about this place if you’ve never been here?” Fallon asked once they settled in, though she felt pathetic and hypocritical, needing to fill the tired silence with  _ something _ . 

 

“Internet.” Kirby tapped away on her phone for another moment before setting it down and looking up, fixing Fallon with a quick, tight smile as she reached for her water. “We should do something after this.”

 

Fallon sighed, watching a hint of the Kirby she had actually come to know flash through in a millisecond of a pout before the other woman straightened her features and shrugged.

 

“Just a suggestion. It’s still early.”

 

“And I thought we said an early night was a good idea. Tomorrow is going to be packed.”

 

“Just feeling kind of… cramped up, sitting in hotel rooms constantly.”

 

“What did you have in mind?” Fallon flipped the menu closest to her open but she was focused on the other woman, not the words on the page.

 

“I don’t know. A walk. Something.”

 

“You want me to take you for a walk?” Fallon repeated, reflexively amused but then immediately regretting it, somehow worried that prodding at the other woman would cause her to flip the switch and go back to her unproductive behaviour.

 

“Ha-ha.” Kirby rolled her eyes and laughed sarcastically. She looked up as their server approached, but before he could offer them any sort of greeting, she informed him, “We’re going to need a wine menu.”

 

“We are?” Fallon asked as the waiter spun on his heel and marched away again.

 

“We are.” Kirby said decisively, flipping her own menu open and poring over it curiously. “I feel like there was more room in the budget for a better-furnished hotel room, we can at least treat ourselves with the balance.”

 

“What do you care about the hotel bed, if you’re going to sleep outside?”

 

Watching as the gears turned in the actress’s mind, trying to come up with a comeback, Fallon sipped her own water and then hummed into her glass.

 

“You can go for a walk, I don’t care. As long as you can get up for your call time.”

 

Kirby’s phone buzzed before she could answer, and Fallon saw a flash of Alice’s face on the screen before it vanished again, and Kirby flipped her phone over abruptly.

 

“Actually, I’ll go with you,” Fallon decided.

 

“Really?” Kirby eyed her suspiciously, but before Fallon needed to come up with a good excuse, their server returned with a wine list and left the two of them to go over that between themselves instead.

 

By the time that they ordered and were waiting on food, Kirby had already circled back to pressing the matter, though.

 

“If you think I’m going to sneak out like some kind of kid just to see Alice, you’ll be happy to know she’s doing a show tonight, and you don’t need to come out for ‘fresh air and exercise’ just to keep an eye on me.”

 

“Why are you acting like fresh air and exercise are the shitty parts of keeping an eye on you?” Fallon almost laughed.

 

Kirby fixed her with an unamused look. “So you’re just coming with me because you enjoy my company.”

 

“Less and less with each passing day,” Fallon snarked back.

 

“Funny. That’s funny.” She sipped her wine, swiping a drop of it that threatened to fall onto the tablecloth up with one fingertip. “What’re you doing in publicity when you should have been a comedian?”

 

She popped her finger into her mouth and Fallon immediately forgot the insult that had been on the tip of her tongue.

 

“Hello?” Kirby cocked her head forward and blinked at her impatiently.

 

“I was intentionally not laughing because  _ you  _ should not be encouraged.”

 

“I was half-serious. Why’d you get into publicity?”

 

Fallon opened her mouth to answer, before deciding that she wasn’t interested in going down that particular road. At least not with Kirby.

 

“I think that we’re past small talk at this point in our relationship.”

 

“Right,” Kirby nodded slowly, sipping her wine once more. “On account of you seeing me naked. Or breaking into my apartment. Or breaking into my apartment and then seeing me naked.”

 

“ _ Half  _ naked,” Fallon corrected.

 

“So far.” 

 

Kirby’s words hung  _ very  _ heavily in the air between the two of them for a second before she finally backpedalled.

 

“I mean, if you’re lifting the ban on me having fun and plan to continue to break in without warning, it’s bound to happen eventually.”

 

“Right.” Fallon cleared her throat and took a few generous sips of her own wine, nearly choking on them. “Well, you could stop giving me reasons to break in.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kirby grinned, but Fallon quickly dropped her gaze. “Oh my god, lighten up.”

 

“I just peeled you off of balcony furniture and shoved you on a plane to get to work,” Fallon reminded her. “Forgive me.” 

 

Kirby sighed quietly.

 

“Whatever.” She leaned back a little as their food arrived and was placed in front of them, poking away at it with her fork for a minute.

 

The silence was long and awkward, and it made Fallon feel guilty for telling Kirby not to fill every gap in conversation with meaninglessness. 

 

“Where are we going for this walk?” Fallon finally asked.

 

“I told you that you didn’t have to come. I was going to go see if I could meet any drug dealers under the Brooklyn Bridge and then maybe go back to Alice’s hotel and break in to wait for her and hope I don’t get arrested.”

 

“My god, y’know, it’s a good thing you can do drama because you are criminally unfunny.”

 

Kirby laughed quietly. “That’s very high praise, thank you.”

 

“Definitely not a compliment,” Fallon reminded her, but Kirby shook her head.

 

“You’re trying  _ so  _ hard, I can tell, but you can’t make me not like you.”

 

“Is that your new goal? After you failed spectacularly at making  _ me  _ like  _ you _ , you decided to go the opposite way?” Fallon pushed her own food around, but she was too distracted to actually feel hungry. 

 

“But you  _ do _ like me,” Kirby told her, smugly sitting back in her seat with a little shrug. 

 

Fallon glanced up and caught her eye, and for a moment she was tempted to admit it. She  _ did  _ like this  _ part,  _ at least - the back and forth; the excited energy when Kirby got to do something for the first time that Fallon had seen so many actors become jaded to the experience of… it was pleasant. She didn’t mind the idiotic texts or the stupid questions. Dragging her out of messes and rescheduling interviews and trying to pry her away from her less savoury - at least image-wise - friends, however, were all things that Fallon could live without.

 

She watched the other woman cut up the chicken on her plate into tiny pieces and considered the idea that maybe giving more of the approval that she so clearly was desperately looking for would make her more susceptible to controlling herself - but watching her refill her wine glass too generously reminded her that Kirby was exactly who she was, with or without Fallon’s jabs about babysitting and groundings.

 

“If you didn’t like me at least a  _ little  _ bit, you wouldn’t be here,” Kirby continued. “I know you could be doing something else.”

 

“Well, I don’t start anything I won’t finish,” Fallon informed her, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “And I already told you why I’m here.  _ Plus  _ it’ll wipe the smug look off of Cristal’s face when she hears your name at the nominations.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Kirby asked, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb and raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that? She betting for the other team?”

 

“She only gave me you because she wanted me to be miserable.”

 

Kirby laughed quietly at that.

 

“And now look at us. Best of friends.” She lifted her glass and clinked it gently against Fallon’s, taking a sip before setting it aside. “I’ve never been someone’s punishment before. Should I be doing more?”

 

“I think doing any more would be overkill.”

 

That just made her laugh even more.

 

“You know,” she hummed, “If you had told me all of that from the start, we could have worked together. But I’m not going out of my way to help you now, because you’ve been such a huge bitch.”

 

“Oh no, I’m heartbroken.” Fallon stabbed up a piece of broccoli and popped it into her mouth, smirking.

 

“I think that requires a heart,” Kirby shot back, pushing her still mostly full plate aside and leaning on the table to fix her gaze on the other woman.

 

“How original,” Fallon hummed.

 

“Come on.” Kirby stood up, picking up her glass and slamming back the rest of her wine before tossing her napkin onto the table. “I want to enjoy my last couple of hours of freedom. I promise not to lead us to any drug dealers or pop star’s hotel rooms.”

 

“Fine.” Fallon pushed her own seat back and straightened her skirt, following the redhead out.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby woke Fallon up the morning of their flight, waiting outside her door with coffee and the copy of the paper she’d requested at the front desk.

“Good morning!” 

Wincing at the energy - too much of it for the early hour, Fallon decided - she reached out for both the paper and the cup, frowning.

“Why are you up before me?”

She was distinctly aware of her unkempt appearance, but was too confused to focus any of her thoughts on how embarrassing it was to be standing in front of her client, bare-faced, in her pajamas.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kirby explained, and Fallon finally took in her appearance. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and her outfit was considerably nicer than the one she’d worn on their previous two flights. “So then I had tea, thinking it would put me back to sleep, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t decaffeinated. So then I did my makeup and packed, and by then it was time for us to be getting ready, anyway.”

“You’re talking… very fast,” Fallon sighed, sipping her coffee and turning around to leave Kirby in the open doorway as she made her way to the bathroom to start getting ready.

The redhead followed her in, shutting the door behind her. 

“I need to get gravol before we get on the plane. I gave you the last of mine.” 

Fallon scrutinized her reflection thoughtfully for a moment before glancing at the shower next to her. The water pressure was terrible, but if she held out, she could use her own high-end steam shower as soon as she was home. Dry shampoo was the winner - just this once.

“Why don’t you just take an actual sleeping pill like a normal person?” Fallon asked. “Y’know, too much gravol can stop your heart.”

“Spooky,” Kirby hummed. “But I take it for my stomach.  _ Like a normal person.  _ Not  _ everyone _ is terrified of flying.”

Kicking the door shut and pulling her toothbrush out, Fallon ignored the jab - it was meant to get a rise out of her, anyway - and tracked down her toothpaste.

Kirby continued to talk, though, and Fallon heard her lean up against the wall outside of the bathroom door as she spoke.

“Would it make you feel better to try to wrestle booze away from me again? That was a fun game that you were really bad at.”

Fallon found herself smirking despite her annoyance and shook it off, rinsing her toothbrush and reaching for her dry shampoo instead. 

“That’s a very weird survival instinct that you have,” Fallon called back.

Kirby hummed, and then Fallon could hear the laugh behind her words when she spoke next.

“I got pretty ripped fighting kangaroos back home.”

Pulling the bathroom door back open, Fallon fixed the actress with the most unimpressed look she could muster, but Kirby just squinted back, grinning.

“I can  _ see  _ you trying not to smile. You’re stubborn. Like a toddler.”

Snorting and slipping around her to properly hide her face and grab her makeup bag from her suitcase at the end of the bed, Fallon shook her head.

“I can’t believe all I wished for this entire campaign was you being able to get up and be ready at a reasonable hour, yet somehow this pre-seven-AM Kirby is even more annoying than usual. You still haven’t told me why exactly you’re so enthusiastic.”

“Homesick, I guess,” Kirby admitted, coming over and flopping onto Fallon’s unmade bed with a little bounce. She laid back and looked up at the brunette, shrugging. “I want to get back to my friends, and my -”

“One bedroom with no central air conditioning?” Fallon finished for her, glancing at her as she made her way back into the bathroom.

“Right,” Kirby agreed, staying comfortably where she was. “And I’m sure whatever mansion you live in is getting all cobwebby and gross without you there, too. Wait, no. No mansion. Just a pull-out sofa bed in your office, right?”

“Neither,” Fallon replied.

“You sure?” Kirby asked. “Because when I Googled you, it said you lived in some ridiculous castle in Beverly Hills.”

“ _ Used to _ ,” Fallon corrected her, not sure why she was even bothering to indulge her. “That’s my family’s house. I don’t live there.”

“Aw,” Kirby cooed. “Did they build you in the cyborg factory at the size you are now, or did you have some weird rich-kid childhood that explains all of this?”

Leaning back from the mirror and admiring her eyeliner, double-checking that both sides were even, Fallon scoffed.

“I grew up in Atlanta. Your creepy stalker background check didn’t tell you that, too?”

“...No.” Kirby’s tone sounded genuinely surprised. “It didn’t. Why don’t you have the… y’know. Accent?”

Losing her patience, Fallon pulled out her lipstick and then turned to poke her head out of the bathroom door to glare at the other woman.

“If you’re going to sit there this entire time could you at least make yourself useful and tell the front desk we’ll be down shortly? Instead of just… interrogating me?”

Kirby propped herself up on her elbows and frowned. “ _ Interrogating  _ you? Jesus.”

Mercifully, though, she did leave Fallon alone to finish the last of her routine, and as she finished with a quick mist of setting spray, she heard Kirby phoning down to the desk to update them. 

“Are you ready? Totally ready? We’re not going to get halfway to LA before you decide you forgot your phone or something?” Fallon came back out and zipped her makeup bag back into her suitcase.

“Yeah,  _ Mum _ , I think I got everything.” Kirby hopped up and tossed Fallon’s empty coffee cup into the garbage for her. “I sent my bag down already. Can we  _ go  _ now,  _ please _ ?”

Bouncing impatiently on the spot, Kirby resembled an excited kid more than an Oscar-hopeful, but Fallon found herself (secretly) endeared, and had to click her tongue in mock-distaste to cover up her smile.

“Fine. Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

 

Flinging her jacket down on the couch and then collapsing directly onto it, Fallon sighed heavily in relief and began to toe off her uncomfortable heels. The six hour flight had been rougher than she was expecting, and the combination of dry-shampoo and overall ‘plane scent’ that didn’t seem to go away, even on a private vessel, were cloying to her senses.

Pushing herself onto her elbows, she took a quick glance around to ensure she hadn’t missed seeing any broken windows or other signs of trouble on her way inside.

Her shower was so welcoming that the first pulse of good water pressure made Fallon want to burst into tears of relief. She scrubbed until her skin felt dry, and then leaned against the wall and let the steam wash over her until she felt like she was going to start sweating again.

Her kitchen welcomed her with perfect cleanliness and her  _ own  _ coffee maker - which she quickly made herself a cup of, despite the fact that it was still early afternoon, just because she’d missed having it her own way. She ate in her  _ own _ dining room and worked from her  _ own  _ home office, and by the time she climbed into her  _ own  _ bed at the end of her night, she felt like she was completely back to normal. The jet lag convinced her that she wanted to be asleep by 8PM, but as she tossed and turned, she realized that maybe she wasn’t as relaxed as she’d originally thought. 

Trying to will herself to fall asleep, she wondered what it was that was keeping her up - Kirby seemed to be back to working well, and coming home had obviously put her in a more positive mood, as had the fact that all of her work obligations seemed to be under control. She even had a couple of days to relax, and despite realizing that she probably wasn’t going to be able to squirm out of having to go to the wedding, it seemed like a much more minor issue now that Kirby was proving to be attached to her. Maybe she just needed a pill -  the thought of it brought her thoughts back to Kirby and her gravol quickly.

Groaning and rolling over to check the time, she saw that an entire two hours had passed since she’d started tossing and turning. With a defeated sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stepped into her slippers, making her way downstairs to the couch. The background noise of the television usually did an alright job of putting her to sleep when she was having issues.

Her living room looked uninviting, and not at all how she’d been picturing it the entire time she’d been out of town. After being in smaller rooms and rarely alone for a few days in a row, the empty, open-concept room looked lonely instead of chic. Ignoring the thought and digging through the wicker basket of movies next to the television stand, Fallon flicked aside classic after classic, her hands pausing over the copy of  _ Splintered Men  _ that she’d never returned. 

Tugging it out and putting it into the player before she could stop herself, she made her way back to the couch and settled in, finding herself mouthing the words along with the opening monologue from the lead actor. 

Her brain had completely separated the Kirby in the movie to the Kirby that she knew in her day-to-day life by then. Seeing her on the screen was no longer as startling as it had been the first couple of times she’d watched it. Even the feeling of guilt and embarrassment that pooled in her stomach every time the sex scene came up was beginning to lessen with each watch through, though Fallon didn’t even make it that far in before she was lulled into a deep, and almost sudden, sense of comfortable drowsiness.

Curling up on her side and pulling one of the couch cushions closer to tuck under her cheek, she listened to the other woman’s voice, and finally fell asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

As soon as Fallon had sat Kirby down in her office instead of their usual conference room or coffee shop meetup, she’d known the news was going to be bad. They’d been home for a little over a week, and whenever Kirby brought up the Hamptons, the publicist seemed to find a way to change the subject. She thought that it was the obvious choice for her to go to the wedding instead, but Fallon had been  _ so  _ insistent that she be the one to take her to the festival that she’d started to grow used to the idea, too. 

 

Now, watching the brunette pace back and forth behind her desk instead of simply sitting down, she felt a sort of mass-hysteria effect washing over her, picking up on the other woman’s nervous energy and squirming in her seat as she waited for her to speak.

 

“Fallon, if this is about -”

 

Seemingly inspired, Fallon cut her off.

 

“I can’t go with you to the Hamptons. But we’ll send someone else, and you only have to be there for the one night.”

 

“Okay.” Despite the discomfort she was feeling,, Kirby spoke as slowly and calmly as she could, trying to be the grounding force between the two of them for once. “I can do that. It’s not a big deal.”

 

“Your co-star, what’s his name?” Fallon was uncharacteristically forgetful, pulling out her phone as it buzzed in her pocket. “Will? Whatever. He should be there, too. Familiar face, right?”

 

Kirby eyed her for a moment, as if worried she was going to combust.

 

“Fallon, I’m fine. I’m too tired from this week, and I want to be back here in time for the theatrical release anyway, so I’ll just do the one night. As planned.” She softened when Fallon looked up at her and finally sank into her own seat, reminding her a little more firmly: “Everything is fine.”

 

“We need to find my replacement.” Fallon double-clicked her mouse and Kirby heard her computer whir to life from where she was sitting.

 

“What about Jeff?” She suggested.

 

She watched Fallon stiffen - she could see the tension start in her lower back and climb its way up to her shoulders in a smooth rolling motion. Her irritation seemed to bring her back to focus, though; her nerves about the situation being pushed aside to make room for annoyance.

 

“There are  _ plenty  _ of good publicists here, Kirby,” she insisted.

 

Getting up from her seat and making her way around to Fallon’s side of the desk, Kirby clicked her tongue quietly. 

 

“Yeah, but I know Jeff.”

 

She leaned over to see the monitor better as Fallon scrolled through the company’s staff roster, one hand on the desk and the other on the back of Fallon’s seat.

 

“Jeff specializes more in musicians,” Fallon hummed.

 

“Well, he makes me feel comfortable.” Kirby knew it was a trump card, but she still tossed it out. 

 

Fallon turned to look up at her, freezing a little when she realized how close they were to one another. Adding icing to the cake, Kirby fixed her expression into a slight ‘pity me’ pout, and watched Fallon’s eyes drop from her own eyes to her lips, even if just for a brief moment.

 

“Is this really what you want?” She asked, and Kirby could already hear the defeat seeping into her tone.

 

“ _ Desperately.” _ She all but whispered, the dramatics being cut short as her face split into a smile instead.

 

“Fine. I will  _ ask  _ Jeff, but if he’s busy, that’s not my problem.”

 

“That’s all I ask.” Kirby straightened back to her full height and wandered back to her own side of the desk. “Did you really get me a car all the way down here just for that? I feel like a breakup text would have sufficed.”

 

“No,” Fallon breathed, turning her attention away from the computer to focus directly on the redhead instead. Clasping her hands together and resting her elbows on the desk, she leveled with her, then continued. “I want to talk about the theatrical release, actually. Figure out where your head is at.”

 

“What do you mean?” Kirby frowned, sitting up a little straighter.

 

“Well, after the whole…  _ incident _ with trailer day -”

 

Kirby groaned quietly. “It was an  _ accident _ . I didn’t mean to go off the rails, one thing just led to another, we were  _ celebrating. _ ”

 

“Hm.” Fallon hummed to herself, but continued. “Right, well, I was just going to say, I know it can seem like a lot of pressure, so, I just wanted to know how you were.”

 

“What, like, how I’m  _ feeling _ ?” Kirby felt the smirk grow on her face despite how hard she worked to hold it back.

 

“Don’t be gross.” Fallon scoffed. “I’m making sure you feel secure, and ready to go into the next phase of all of this with your head on straight, without…”

 

“Alice?”

 

“Meltdowns,” Fallon corrected, though Kirby heard the silent ‘same thing’ implied under her voice. “What’s the deal with you guys, anyway?”

 

Kirby exhaled heavily, trying her best to fix Fallon with a ‘none of your business’ sort of look to stall while she came up with a better explanation.

 

The truth was, she had no idea what was going on. She considered her a friend, but her texts always seemed much more affectionate. Kirby tried to watch how she was around her other friends - she  _ was  _ almost overwhelmingly sweet with all of them, consistently throwing out compliments for seemingly no reason and talking them up to others when they weren’t even around. It made Kirby wonder what Alice was saying about  _ her _ , when she was away. 

 

They’d kept a steady messaging thread going, littered with ‘Miss you!’s and constant apologies for missing each other’s free time, never seeming to have schedules that lined up. When Kirby had expressed that she was busy working in New York and wouldn’t have time to meet up, she’d been sent back a response of ‘Wish you were here’ with a photo Alice’s hotel bed attached. At the time, it had made her heart flutter, but she’d brushed it off, convincing herself that she’d just meant she wanted Kirby to join in on her relaxed movie night.

 

“We’re friends,” she told Fallon.

 

The brunette scoffed, shaking her head a little.

 

“You are  _ so  _ weird.”

 

“What did I do?” Kirby demanded incredulously, sitting upright in her seat.

 

“You’re  _ friends _ ? You can’t even be seen in public with her and I have  _ never  _ seen you not hungover or strung out after hanging out with her. She’s going to run you into the ground.”

 

“I can keep up with her, Fallon. We’re just having fun.”

 

“Whatever, did you even  _ try  _ to ask her out? Wasn’t that your whole big plan, anyway?” Her tone suddenly turned mocking, taking on her accent: “ _ Alice Alby is single and you  _ have  _ to set me up with her or I’m not going to do my job, Fallon! Pleaaaaase get me a date with my celebrity crush because I can’t just do it myself!” _

 

“Nice,” Kirby deadpanned. 

 

“Ask her out or don’t. She’s never single for long, you’re going to miss your chance.” Fallon straightened the files in front of her and set them aside, looking up at Kirby and quirking an eyebrow. 

 

“Don’t do that,” Kirby snorted, shaking her head in annoyance. “Don’t do the weird Taylor-Swift-is-a-demon-because-she-dates-often thing with her. Alice is a sweet person. I don’t blame her for not staying single, she just… has a lot of love to give.”

 

“She  _ has a lot of love to give?” _ Fallon repeated back to her, disgust dripping from every word. “Jesus  _ Christ _ , did you just hear that come out of your mouth too, or am I having a stroke?”

 

Kirby fixed her with a glare, and waited until Fallon’s expression softened, even though it was paired with an eye roll.

 

“What’s your problem with her?”

 

Fallon sighed. “She’s an  _ addict _ , Kirby. I’m sure she’s nice or whatever, but you shouldn’t be enabling her. And she shouldn’t be messing with your image,  _ or  _ your life like that.”

 

“I can make my own decisions.” Kirby tried to keep the growl out of her tone, but failed.

 

“Whatever, I’m not going to argue with you about how to live your life. But one day, when some other poor, unsuspecting publicist is working on covering up  _ your  _ rehab stint, you can think back on this moment and remember fondly that  _ you  _ make  _ your own  _ decisions.”

 

Kirby watched her for a long moment, and then sighed defeatedly.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Her apology seemed to genuinely surprise the other woman, but she meant it. She had no intention of jetting off to the Hamptons with Jeff Colby right after having a fight with Fallon. The advice wasn’t terrible, either, but Fallon didn’t know Alice the same way she did. They understood each other in a way that Fallon couldn’t relate to. She may have had the money, and the apartment, and the car, but she didn’t have the whole world’s eyes on her all of the time the way that Alice did, and the way that Kirby knew she was about to. 

 

“Alright,” Fallon sighed, before her tone switched back to its usual all-business vibe. “Let’s go over the game plan for the festival.”

 

* * *

 

 

Making her way through the airport and pulling her backpack tighter to herself like a security blanket, Kirby kept an eye out for Jeff despite the seemingly endless crowds. 

It was her first time in a public airport since she’d moved to LA in the first place, and as she wandered past a group of girls waiting excitedly at the arrivals gate, cell phones poised and ready to capture whichever celebrity they were waiting for, she realized that it would probably be one of the last times that she could make her way through one without being recognized. 

The attention from the trailer had been relatively mild, and she’d been keeping a low profile ever since. Once the movie was screened for the festival and the publicity photos were released, however, she knew it would be a different story entirely. 

Kirby finally spotted Jeff, leaning against a wall near the row of automated information booths, and as she approached, he greeted her with a smile and held up what she assumed would be their boarding passes.

“First class,” he told her in lieu of a ‘hello’, holding one out to her. She thought of the private plane she’d taken with Fallon and quickly squashed the ungrateful thought from her head. “You all set to go?”

“Ready as ever,” she replied, hiking her backpack up a little further and smiling. Jeff had definitely been a good idea - the nerves she’d felt sinking in earlier were already being dissolved by his relaxed demeanor. 

Even the flight seemed relaxing - she watched a movie and ate an excessively overpriced panini, then coiled up for a nap without any more anxiety creeping in to bother her. 

The weather was cooler than Kirby had been expecting, but it was a welcome change from the heat back at home. As she and Jeff made their way to the hotel, he had seemingly endless questions about her, her work, and everything in between. She couldn’t remember the last time that Fallon had asked her anything about herself that wasn’t intended to be more of an insult than a question. Still, it felt like Fallon knew her inside and out - it was almost a little alarming at times how easily she could predict where Kirby would be or what she would be doing, sending quick little ‘early morning tomorrow!’ reminder texts whenever she was about to have one glass of wine too many, or ‘lots of photos today!’ when she was reaching for her dry shampoo instead of stepping into the shower. As frustrating as being kept on a tight leash felt, there was something oddly comforting about knowing that Fallon always seemed to grab her when she was teetering on the edge.

“Kirby?” Jeff’s voice cut through her thoughts. “You good? You looked like you left the planet, there.”

“Hm?” She turned to him across the leather seats of the limousine and smiled. “Yeah, sorry. Just sort of… plane tired.”

“I feel that,” he agreed, pulling out his phone as it buzzed and tapping away at it quickly before tucking it back in his pocket. “How about when we get to the hotel, you get settled in, chill for a bit, and we go get a drink?”

“Yeah?” Kirby raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean - yeah, if you think that we have time.”

Jeff shook his suit jacket from his wrist and checked his watch, humming thoughtfully. “The screening should be starting right away, and your panel isn’t until six tonight. We have plenty of time, unless you’d rather rest.”

She chuckled, shaking her head a little.

“Honestly, a drink sounds nice. And I’m starving.”

“Oh? That $25 panini on the Carrington’s tab wasn’t fulfilling?” Jeff teased.

“Not even close. I almost feel bad.”

“Ah, whatever.” He waved one hand dismissively. “They deserve it, anyway.”

Before she could ask him to explain, they arrived at the hotel and pulled up to the doors.

It was a considerably nicer hotel than the one that she and Fallon had stayed in, and since money wasn’t an object, Kirby wondered if it she had  _ meant  _ for that to be humbling, especially in light of their conversation before they’d arrived. 

“This is amazing,” Kirby breathed, staring up at the building before her as Jeff retrieved her garment bag and handed it to the bellhop with her backpack. 

“Yeah, you like?” He approached her and smiled genuinely as she turned to face him. “Wait until you see the inside.”

Her room was nearly the size of her apartment back in LA, and she couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief when she walked in. For only one night, it was unnecessarily opulent, but she wasn’t planning on lodging any complaints. 

Her phone buzzed in her backpack near the end of the bed, and she quickly made her way over to pick it up, hesitating when she didn’t immediately recognize the number. It was her area code, though, so she answered, greeted by the familiar voice of her previous co-star, Will Chevale.

“ _ Kirby Anders!  _ I heard that you followed me to my hotel and they thought you were some big movie star so they let you have the suite.”

She laughed outright, feeling a sudden swell of excitement growing in her chest. 

“I didn’t know when I’d be seeing you!” She replied, grinning to herself as she began to tour the room. “Hey, are you busy? I’m supposed to get a drink with my publicist, I’d love to see you before tonight.”

Will whistled lowly into the receiver.

“Your  _ publicist _ . Wow. Remember when you asked me what a  _ grip  _ was? They grow up so fast under those bright lights. Sad, really.”

“I changed my mind about the drink, I don’t need you meeting him and embarrassing me,” Kirby mocked.

“I think I have time to sneak away for a drink, if I can shake my team off of me for more than five minutes. You want to just meet in the lobby?”

“For sure, give me twenty minutes?”

“For you, Kirby, I’d wait eons.”

Hanging up with a laugh, Kirby quickly updated Jeff on the plan and nearly dropped her phone in shock as she walked into the bathroom. A jacuzzi tub with a pile of fresh, soft towels resting on its ledge greeted her, and she had to step closer to believe her eyes. It was a considerable upgrade, not only from their last hotel, but from her own place.

Next to the sink was a  _ LUSH _ box and a bottle of champagne, which Kirby assumed were sponsored gifts until she stepped closer and picked up the note card next to them. 

_ Deliver To: Kirby Anders _

_ ‘Congratulations.  _ _ Be good _ _. - Fallon’ _

Her heart thudded in her chest as she read and reread the note over and over again, trying desperately to keep the smile off her face even though she was alone. Grabbing her phone and taking a quick photo of the gifts, she brought up Fallon’s name to text her and noticed for the first time that her hands were shaking from adrenaline.

_ Ah, shit. _

Trying to still what she dreadingly recognized as butterflies beginning to make their home in the pit of her stomach, Kirby pulled her phone up again.

_ ‘Thank you for this. Do you think it’s safe and/or legal for me to dump all 30 of these bath bombs in the jacuzzi at once?’ _

Setting her phone down on the counter, she took a long look at herself in the mirror and steeled her gaze.

_ You’re overreacting just because she never does anything nice for you. Get a grip. You can’t even figure out how you feel about Alice, and now you want to start thinking about your publicist? _

Her phone buzzed next to her and she nearly broke off a nail with how aggressively she grabbed it.

_ [1:21PM] Fallon PR: It’s probably both safe and legal, but you’re going to dye your skin and have to get photographed looking like a birthday cake at the Oscars. _

The grin pulled at the corners of her mouth again, and instead of trying to stop it, Kirby made her way back into the room and pulled her clutch out of her backpack, getting ready to make her way down to the lobby.

 

* * *

 

 

Will joined Kirby and Jeff shortly after they met up, and the three of them fell into easy conversation quickly. Seeing her co-star from  _ Splintered Men  _ again after such a long period of time apart was exactly the sort of afternoon that Kirby needed, and she felt suddenly at ease about the campaign and the future.

“An Oscar campaign is… ambitious.” He told her, though the way he said it sounded impressed, not unsure. “But then again, so is hiring a fresh face for your blockbuster, and they took that chance on you.”

“I don’t know, I think Fallon seems to have a pretty good handle on it, and it would be an honor just to be consi-”

“Cut the bullshit, Kirby,” Will deadpanned, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Jeff laughed, and Will continued, “No one except us is listening. You can admit that you’re dreaming about that trophy.”

Smiling shyly, Kirby shrugged and reached for her beer. 

“It  _ would  _ be amazing.”

“And you deserve it,” Jeff insisted, clinking his glass against hers gently. 

“Who’s Fallon? I thought your manager’s name was… Maria or something?”

Jeff cleared his throat and Kirby clarified quickly.

“Fallon’s my actual publicist. Jeff’s standing in for her because she couldn’t make it because she had to be at her dad’s wedding.”

“Oh.” Will leaned back in his seat. “That’s nice. It’s sweet when people put family over all of this stuff.” He waved a hand around dismissively, but Jeff and Kirby snorted into their drinks simultaneously.

“Who’s representing you these days?” Jeff asked across the table.

“I’m at Harper, ever since I got started,” Will hummed, turning his glass around distractedly in front of him. “I think it’ll be time for a change, soon, though. So if you know anyone in the market for a washed-up old guy…” 

Kirby laughed at the self deprecation, and then watched as Jeff reached into his pocket and tugged out a business card holder.

“Actually, I do.” He slipped out one of the cards and handed it across the table to the actor, the gold-flake logo glinting in the light.  _ Visight.  _

Will reached out and took the card curiously.

“Talk to my friend, Kori Rucks. Her extension is on the back.”

“Thank you.” Will lifted the card in acknowledgement, then tucked it into his wallet. “I’m still not sure, but I’ll keep her in mind.”

“Hey, man, it’s totally understandable. Sometimes change is a good thing, not everyone who works on our end of things is the right fit every time.” Jeff’s words caused Kirby to glance up at him, and he met her eye knowingly for a moment before dropping his gaze back to the drink in front of him.

“Did I show you what Fallon sent me?” She asked, continuing to hold her gaze where his eyes had just been.

“No, you did not.” Jeff’s smile was still in place when he looked back up at her again, but she could see now the smugness hiding behind it.

She wasn’t sure why she even felt so defensive. It wasn’t like he’d outright tried to  _ poach _ her, but the insinuation he’d made about Fallon when she wasn’t around to defend herself properly got under her skin immediately. 

Pulling out her phone to show him the photo from earlier, she passed it to each of the men on either side of her and chuckled when Will whistled in reaction.

“Either she’s trying to seduce you, or just hinting that you need to bathe more.”

His comment was a harmless joke, but it made Kirby’s face turn red immediately and she tried to cover it up by chugging more of her beer. 

“I’ll grab us another round,” Jeff suggested, slipping out of his seat and leaving the two former co-stars alone together.

“He doesn’t turn it off, does he?” Will asked, watching Jeff leave. 

Kirby chuckled and shook her head.

“None of them do. That’s the  _ Carrington PR  _ touch.”

“Oh, your Fallon is Fallon  _ Carrington _ ?” Will caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. “They’re really going all out on you, huh?  _ The Oscar Whisperer _ and everything.”

Shrugging, Kirby finished the last of her drink and tried to play it off.

“To be honest, it’s nice having someone who really knows what they’re doing. I’d have no idea if I was ruining everything if I was on my own.”

“She’s good.  _ Really  _ good. It’s too bad she’s not out here with you this time.”

It  _ was  _ too bad, and as excited as Kirby had been when she arrived, she was now much more excited to get back home. She told herself that it was just homesickness, but she knew that it was the idea of seeing Fallon again that was making her feel giddy.

Remembering that she hadn’t answered Fallon’s last text, she glanced at her phone and saw that she had missed another message, though this time it was from Alice.

_ [1:58PM] Alice: hey gorgeous you’re on my tv right now _ _   
_ _   
_ Rereading the text to make sure she’d read it correctly, Kirby frowned at the screen in confusion, and typed back a quick response of  __ ‘???’  just as Jeff returned to the table.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, setting a fresh drink down next to her empty glass and nodding to her phone. “That Alice?”

Glancing back and forth between her screen and Jeff’s face, Kirby still tried to process.  _ Had she been spotted out somewhere? Maybe even with Alice? _

_ [1:59PM] Alice: your trailer!!  _

A photo attached to the text showed Alice’s massive television screen, with a movement-blurry still shot of Kirby. Much more interestingly, though, wasn’t the focal point of the photo - in the distance behind the television mount was a man, but the blur from his movement made it impossible to make out his face. What was more interesting, though, was the fact that he was just in his underwear.

Alice always had a stream of people coming and going from her place, so Kirby tried not to put too much weight onto the thought, but she did close the message without responding. Remembering that she no longer had access to her Twitter account, she loaded up her browser instead to see if any of her fans were talking about rumours. Just as she was about to type her name into the search bar, she stopped herself.

_ She’s not even your girlfriend. It’s like Fallon said, you can’t even man up and ask her out, what business do you have acting like you’re jealous? _

Closing the browser and setting her phone face down on the table in front of her, she turned her attention back to her company. 

“I think I’m going to head up and freshen up before photos. I’ll see you at the panel?” Will stood up from his seat, smiling down at the redhead.

“Yes. I’m glad we got to catch up.”

“It was nice meeting you, Jeff.” He turned his attention to the man on her left instead, then, shaking his hand before exiting into the lobby from the lounge. 

“He seems cool,” Jeff mused.

“Hey, Kori Rucks is Alice’s manager, too, right?” Kirby asked.

“That’s right.”

“What’s her deal with Fallon? Why’d she have to call you for backup?” Swirling her fresh drink around and taking a sip, Kirby fixed her gaze on him and then cocked her head to the side.

Laughing quietly, Jeff leaned back in his seat and crossed one leg over his knee.

“They went to high school together and  _ never  _ got along. A few years back, Carrington PR wanted to expand and branch out into talent management. Kori had a friend whose agency,  _ Starsight, _ was about to go under, and Carrington buying them out would have saved them. The rumour is that Fallon convinced her dad to buy elsewhere, and if  _ Vim  _ hadn’t merged with  _ Starsight  _ at the last minute, they’d have lost their whole agency.”

Kirby sunk back into her seat, eyebrows raising. 

“Wow,” she breathed.

“So once Kori took over, she swore she’d never help Fallon again.” Jeff shrugged and reached for his drink. “They poached Alice from her last place pretty recently, which is almost too bad. We practically needed to get a revolving door installed just for her image problems alone.”

Kirby frowned at that, and Jeff chuckled.

“Sorry. What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

“There isn’t any deal,” Kirby sighed, thinking about the picture again. “I think I waited too long and sort of blew it. We’re friends, though.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Jeff admitted. “She’s not exactly the greatest first lady candidate for your campaign right now.”

“I don’t know  _ why  _ everyone keeps saying that. She’s  _ really  _ nice,” Kirby insisted.

“I never said she wasn’t,” Jeff held up his free hand in surrender. “I just know she’s trouble. Trouble can be fun, I get it. But we’ve got a job to do, right now.”

“You sound like Fallon,” Kirby replied, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that they weren’t true. Fallon would have had much more blunt words of wisdom to offer,  _ and then she’d raise her eyebrow and give Kirby that look of amusement and pity and annoyance all wrapped into one, and maybe try not to smile at whatever stupid joke Kirby cracked to relieve the tension, and then they’d - _

“Yikes, then, my apologies.” Jeff cut her thoughts off, making her practically jump in her seat.  _ That  _ was for the best, too, keeping her head out of the clouds and not letting her have any time to daydream.

Finishing the last of her second drink, Kirby set her glass down and stood up with a little smile.

“I think I’m going to head back up and just… lay down for a bit. Text me when it’s go-time?”

Jeff looked up with a smile, nodding. 

“Absolutely, rest up.”

Leaving him at their table, Kirby made her way toward the exit and across the lobby to the elevators, trying to think about the panel that evening. She thought about how she’d do her makeup, and the outfit in the garment bag upstairs, what she’d do with her hair - anything to avoid letting her mind continue to wander back around to her public image, or Alice, or Fallon.


	15. Chapter 15

The wedding itself felt like it had gone on for twelve hours, but with her brother sitting beside her, Fallon’s mood wasn’t entirely sour. Wordlessly reaching over and tugging her phone out of her hand when she raised it to answer yet another work-related text, Steven gave her a knowing but chiding smirk and placed it on the seat between the two of them, nodding minutely toward the altar to redirect her attention.

 

He’d promised her on the way in that he had a couple of days in LA, and that he wasn’t going to vanish as soon as the reception ended, but she still felt like every time she looked away from him for a moment too long, or took her hand off of his arm, he would be gone when she turned around. 

 

Sitting on Steven’s opposite side was his boyfriend (for the time being, Fallon always clarified), Sam. Lounging much more comfortably in his seat than the two Carrington siblings, he watched the proceedings excitedly, his eyes lit up in genuine happiness for the couple. Letting her eyes wander to him, for a moment, Fallon wondered what it must’ve been like for him, or anyone else sitting around them, to be genuinely excited about this. 

 

Her attention shot back to the front of the room as the audience around them burst into sudden applause, wincing at the sight of her father clutching Cristal to him, their lips locked. 

 

It was official.  _ Great. _

 

“I have to get back to the office,” Fallon hissed to Steven as she, and the rest of the room, stood up. “Did you want a ride?”

 

Glancing at Sam and taking his hand, Steven turned his attention back to Fallon and shook his head. 

 

“We’re staying for the reception. You should, too.”

 

“Sorry,” she lied. “Kirby gets back tomorrow, I need to get ready.”

 

“How is that going, by the way?” Steven’s brow knitted in curiosity. “I’ve been seeing the trailers everywhere - it seems like a sure thing.”

 

“She’s good. I think.” Fallon scratched at the back of her neck, trying to figure out how to change the subject. “But we do have a lot to do, still. So I need to go prep for that, and -”

 

“She’s friends with Alice Alby, right?” Sam cut her off.

 

Steven chuckled. “He’s a huge fan. I was telling him that it’s too bad we don’t have her in our court anymore.”

 

Tightening her smile into a thin line, Fallon cleared her throat until Steven looked away apologetically.

 

“Sore subject,” he stage-whispered to the man beside him. “Let’s go get our seats.”

 

Leaning over and kissing her temple, he led his boyfriend away through the throng of people and mercifully left Fallon alone.

 

She really did have things to do back in the office, though they weren’t as urgent as she’d been pretending they were. She decided to stop at home and pick up the copy of  _ Splintered Men  _ that she still hadn’t returned, then make her way in.

 

The office was starkly empty. With no Cristal, no Jeff, and half of the staff at the wedding or enjoying their weekend, Fallon felt like she was walking through an abandoned ruin. Phones rang quietly in cubicles, the lights shone down on vacant desks, and somewhere off in another corner, a vacuum from the cleaning crew whirred to life.

 

Letting herself into her own office and settling down at her desk, she flicked her computer on and sat back with a sigh. Her inbox was full of updates from the festival; Google news alerts or messages from Jeff and other publicists that she knew would be attending. 

 

Clicking on the first alert, a photo of Kirby and her former co-star filled Fallon’s screen, and she felt the corners of her lips tugging upwards as she clicked through the series of pictures. The redhead was beaming in almost every one, a few candids sneaking in where she was clearly mid-sentence or laughing, and Fallon felt a hint of nervous dread seeping into her content mood when she realized how much she missed her. Knowing she’d be back the next day shot an excited thrill down her spine, and she guiltily flicked through the photos a second time.

 

As frustrating as she could be, Kirby’s presence had become a staple of Fallon’s life, and whether she always liked it or not, she had to admit that she was now totally used to having her around.

 

Her phone buzzed next to her on the desk, and she reached over to pick it up without looking.

 

“Hey, just checking in.” Jeff’s voice startled her, and she quickly closed her browser as if she were caught doing something she shouldn’t have been.

 

“How’d it go?”

 

“Screening was a hit, panel was even better - everything according to plan, I’ll have her back to you in one piece tomorrow.”

 

Chuckling with genuine relief, Fallon leaned back in her chair and let the warm wave of success wash over her. 

 

“Good. She doing okay?”

 

“She’s great. Did you want to talk to her?”

 

Fallon felt her heart leap up into her throat and quickly cleared it, feeling suddenly short of breath.

 

“No, I think that’s -”

 

“Is that Fallon?” She heard in the background, before a much closer exclamation of “Can you thank her for the bath bombs? I’m going to go throw like six of them into my tub right now.”

 

Laughing softly, there was a muffled sound of friction, and then Jeff’s voice again.

 

“Kirby said to thank you for -”

 

“I heard,” Fallon cut him off gently, chuckling to herself despite trying to stay serious. “Good to hear an early night is on the agenda.”

 

“I’ll call you when we land tomorrow,” Jeff promised her before hanging up. 

 

Smiling to herself and reopening her inbox, Fallon scrolled through the rest of her emails to read some of the screening reviews firsthand, hitting ‘Ctrl + F’ and only skimming through to each mention of Kirby’s name. It was, after all, none of her interest or business what anyone else was doing or saying, as long as Kirby, her only responsibility, was in line. 

 

Her research and clarifying that everything had in fact gone completely smoothly took up the better part of an hour, and she spent the majority of the next two ensuring that all of the other appearances she’d set up for Kirby’s return were confirmed and ready to go the moment the redhead touched down on the tarmac.

 

With nothing left to distract herself, Fallon grabbed her phone to text Steven before remembering that he would still most likely be at the reception, celebrating. 

 

Skimming through her contacts, she hovered over Michael’s name, and paused.

 

She didn’t want to be alone, but she knew she didn’t feel as excited at the thought of calling him as she usually did. Monica had been at least partially right about her. 

 

Staring at the screen for a moment longer to weigh her options, she clicked his name and began typing.

 

_ ‘Hey, working tonight?’ _

 

He answered her almost immediately, before she could even close the message, as if he’d been about to text her at the same time.

 

_ [8:10PM] Michael: About to get cut, quiet night. _

_ [8:10PM] Michael: You wanna meet for a drink? _

 

Fallon watched the two messages appear and smiled to herself, pursing her lips before replying.

 

_ ‘Yeah, stay where you are. I’ll come to you.’ _

 

Packing up her files and tossing her phone into her purse, Fallon stood up and glanced at herself in the mirror behind her desk, only then realizing how overdressed she was for casual drinks at an empty restaurant. Still, the cocktail dress was better than skipping out on plans just to go home and change, so she pulled her hair down from its bun and ran her fingers through it to try to loosen up the look.

 

It didn’t take her as long to get to  _ Le Grand  _ as she’d thought it would, though; her wandering thoughts may have velocitized her into not realizing how long she’d been behind the wheel. 

 

Michael was alone, chatting with the girl behind the bar that Fallon recognized from a few weeks back. When the bartender turned to look at her as she came in, Fallon could see Michael’s eyes drift to follow her gaze and then the slow smile sliding across his face once he caught Fallon’s eye.

 

“Fallon, this is -”

 

“We’ve met,” she interrupted smoothly, shooting a hand out to shake Fallon’s.

 

“Did you want to stay here, or head somewhere else?” Michael asked.

 

“Here is just fine,” Fallon insisted, hopping up onto the seat next to him and tapping his fingers gently on the bar.

 

“She’ll have a Southside.” Michael ordered before she could, and as the woman behind the bar turned away to get to work, he spun his seat around so that they were almost knee to knee. “How was the wedding? I saw it in the paper.”

 

Waving a hand dismissively, Fallon sighed.

 

“I don’t know. It was a wedding.”

 

“I’m surprised you still have any free time,” Michael told her, reaching for his own already half-finished drink and taking a sip. “I thought that actress was running you ragged.”

 

Huffing out a tiny breath of a laugh, Fallon reached out and took her drink as it was handed to her.

 

“She’s in the Hamptons at a film festival.” 

 

Michael reached behind the bar and grabbed a sprig of mint, dropping it into Fallon’s glass as he listened to her.

 

“I was going to tell you,” he hummed. “Your pop star was in here the other day  _ with _ some guy. I thought you tried to set her up with Kirby.”

 

Fallon raised an eyebrow, glancing up as the woman behind the bar paused in what she was doing, her back still turned to them.

 

“She’s fine,” Michael assured Fallon, waving a hand. 

 

“What do you mean  _ with some guy _ ?” she asked, leaning against the bar and twisting her straw around in her drink. “Like  _ with- _ with?”

 

“Looked like it.” 

 

“Huh.” 

 

“I don’t think anyone really noticed. Everyone was more focused on her,” Michael tried to assure her as she took a sip.

 

“This is actually the opposite of a problem,” Fallon told him, lowering her voice and waiting until the bartender had walked away to the other end of the bar before continuing. “I’ve been trying to get Kirby to climb down from inside her ass since this whole thing started. Maybe this’ll be the jolt she needs.”

 

“Have you ever tried just telling people what you want, upfront?” Michael asked, and when she raised her eyes to him again, he was looking at her far too intensely for the surface topic at hand.

 

“I do, all the time. Sometimes they don’t listen to me,” she replied, tearing her eyes away from him to pull her phone out before continuing, “Especially in Kirby’s case. She’ll get there, though.”

 

Typing Alice’s name into Twitter revealed a few paparazzi photos that had clearly been circling through her fanbase, but sifting through 280 character keyboard slams and incoherent inside jokes made it impossible for her to figure out any particularly important details. Saving the four most common paparazzi photos onto her phone, she exited out and pulled up her texts instead.

 

“Well, it’ll be over soon, and then she’ll be out of your hair,” Michael was saying, his words snapping her out of her train of work-related thought.

 

“She’s not all bad.” The words fell from Fallon’s mouth naturally, surprising even her. “I mean - it’s her first time. She’s basically an amateur at all of this.”

 

Pulling Steven’s name up in her messages, she typed as quickly as she could in order to get back to the conversation at hand.

 

_ ‘Hey, you still have any contacts from when you worked for that cancel culture blog?’ _

 

“Well then,” Michael mused, “she’s lucky to have you.”

 

Fallon looked up and smiled genuinely, reaching over and picking up her drink for another sip as he pressed his hand to her thigh, rubbing his thumb over her knee.

 

“You’re right,” Fallon smirked, “But I  _ am  _ ready for the season to actually start. I can’t wait to see the look on Cristal’s face when -”

 

Her phone chirped for her attention and she trailed off mid-sentence to read the screen.

 

_ [8:51PM] Steven:  _ Sapien _ is not a ‘cancel culture’ blog _

_ [8:51PM] Steven: And where are you? Are you at work right now? _

 

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Fallon replied quickly.

 

_ ‘Semantics. You still have anyone at TMZ in your little black book?’ _

 

Michael’s hand stilled on her leg, and when she looked up from her screen he was watching her.

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

Smiling reassuringly, she nodded.

 

“Work stuff.”

 

“Did you need to go? We can always do this another time,” he insisted.

 

“No.” Fallon shook her head, sipping her drink much more generously. “But we could get out of here after this one.”

 

Michael’s smile grew slowly and he finished off the last of his own drink, flagging down the bartender to return from where she was washing glasses a few feet away.

 

“I think that’s a perfect plan.”

 

* * *

 

 

_ [9:00PM] Steven: I’m a little busy right now, Fallon. _

_ [9:16PM] Steven: Ok what did you need from TMZ? _

Stretching out happily in her bed and then rolling into the vacant spot beside her, Fallon hugged the cooler, unused pillow and unlocked her phone.

A morning off, a booty call that had been courteous enough to leave the same night, and the bed to herself. 

She’d entirely forgotten about Steven and her request to him the night before, becoming understandably distracted when she brought Michael home and then gracefully kicked him out once she was satisfied. Remembering the photos of Alice immediately connected her thoughts to Kirby, and she felt an excited little jump in her stomach at the realization that she’d be home that afternoon.

_ ‘Can you figure out who this is?’  _

Attaching the photos of Alice to the text, Fallon sent it off and then flopped onto her back.

Not  _ only _ would Kirby be home in a few short hours, but Fallon would hopefully have squashed any last remaining hints of Alice Alby from their combined professional lives.

As she closed out of her text thread with Steven, she saw another missed text from the night before and nearly choked as she opened it.

_ [9:25PM] Kirby: thanks again _

Attached was a photo, framed perfectly for Instagram - Fallon would have to forward it to their social media intern - Kirby’s hand delicately holding out a glass of champagne with the open bottle on the opposite end of the tub’s ledge, the water a shimmery, cosmic-looking periwinkle broken up only by a long pair of legs sticking out and resting against the faucet.

Fallon stared at the photo a moment longer than necessary before closing it and physically shaking her head and shoulders as it to clear the thought of it from her mind like an Etch-a-Sketch. 

She texted Jeff instead.

_ ‘Let me know when you land.’ _

Getting out of bed and making her way to the bathroom to shower, Fallon tried to relax. It was an entire morning off - she needed to pace herself if she was going to survive it without going insane from boredom.

She tried to shower slowly, adding in every luxury step that she didn’t implement in her day-to-day routine, and even sat on the bench and let the steam soften her skin for almost half an hour before cleaning off her hair, face,  _ and  _ body masks. 

Only an hour had passed by the time she was dressed and pulling her fresh coffee from the machine in the kitchen downstairs, and she found herself checking the time every few sips, even as she made her way into the living room and turned on the news. 

_ TMZ  _ had nothing to report on Alice or her mystery friend, and Steven hadn’t yet answered her texts about the photos, either. Still, the photos alone might have been enough to get Kirby to ditch Alice once and for all - or at least for the rest of the campaign. 

Looking at the time  _ yet again,  _ Fallon noted that Jeff and Kirby would be boarding their flight right about then and wondered if she was missing the private jet.

Double-checking her news alerts in her email inbox to make sure she hadn’t missed anything more original since the evening before, Fallon set her empty mug down on the coffee table and stretched out on the couch to stare boredly at the ceiling.

She knew it was ridiculous - as much as she loved work, sometimes, with Kirby, she couldn’t wait to be finished for the day. She usually felt pressured, but now that she had time alone, she couldn’t wait to get back to it. 

Back to  _ Kirby. _

_ Nope. _

Sitting up and pushing the thought from her mind, she decided a workout would be in order. Nothing like kicking her own ass on the elliptical to distract her in much more productive ways than simply staring at her ceiling and feeling sorry for herself.

She was halfway up the stairs to get changed when Steven finally answered her, and she read his message so quickly that she had to go back and make sure she’d seen it correctly.

_ [8:30AM] Steven: Alice Alby and some guy. _

Groaning out loud in frustration, Fallon shook her phone and then typed back shakily,  _ ‘No shit. No idea who he is?’ _

A moment later, he answered, and she threw her phone angrily onto her bed as she made her way into the room.

_ [8:31] Steven: Nope. _

Fine. The name wasn’t important, anyway; it was the fact that the two of them were out holding hands and having dinner and drinks together. He could have been anyone; it wouldn’t make a difference.

She did feel considerably less frustrated after her workout, and it required her to hop back into the shower for a second time that morning, killing even more time. 

  
At ten, she made her second cup of coffee, called Monica, and nearly begged her to join her for brunch. Pleading her case as a ‘potentially fatal case of boredom’ did the trick, and after finishing her hair and makeup, she was headed to meet her at  _ Le Grand _ . 

 

* * *

 

 

“I didn’t think you’d be off today,” Monica greeted, slipping into the seat across from her as soon as she walked in. 

“Just the morning. Jeff and Kirby are back around noon - he didn’t mention it?”

Monica shrugged.

“We’re having dinner tonight, I don’t need to keep tabs on him all of the time.” 

“Must be nice,” Fallon hummed, glancing at her phone and mentally doing the math. They’d probably be somewhere over Colorado by now - Kirby would be staring out the window or pressing her phone against the glass and trying to capture the view of the rocky terrain below. 

“You sure didn’t stick around at the wedding for long. What, you had a hot date?” Monica’s words snapped her out of it, and she smiled, shaking her head.

“No, I had some work to get done.”

“Must’ve been pretty important,” Monica mused, and Fallon could tell she was watching her for a sign of a lie. 

“Not really, but it was a good excuse to get out of there.” Fallon tugged a drink menu towards herself - as if she weren’t a regular - just as their server appeared.

Monica, and the easy conversation that came with her, were an improvement from Fallon’s attempts to distract herself alone. She hadn’t even realized how much time had passed as the two of them walked out toward their cars until Fallon’s phone chirped with a text from Jeff. 

_ [12:13PM] Jeff Colby: Just hit the tarmac. You want me to drop her off? _

“What is it?” Monica stopped walking and turned to her, one eyebrow raising before she leaned over to try to see Fallon’s screen. “What’re you grinning about?”

Trying to wipe the expression she hadn’t even realized had appeared from her face, Fallon tipped her phone away a little, shaking her head.

“Nothing, Jeff and Kirby just landed - I need to head back so I can meet her at the office.”

Giving her one last confused if not somewhat knowing look, Monica made her way to her own car and Fallon all but  _ scurried  _ to her own, heading back to the office as quickly as she could. 

She only beat Jeff and Kirby by a few minutes, and was still in the lobby when they arrived.

Her first surprise was seeing the small group of people that stopped in the street outside of the building’s giant floor to ceiling windows and watched Kirby come inside - her second surprise was the redhead immediately wrapping her arms around her as if they were old friends.

“Sorry-” Kirby immediately pulled away before Fallon could properly process what had just happened. “It’s been a long twenty-four  hours of schmoozing.” 

Jeff seemed to materialize behind her, startling both of them enough to visibly jolt. 

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, glancing between the two of them with a growing look of confusion.

“No!” Fallon answered quickly, clearing her throat. “Kirby was just telling me that it went well, and invading my personal space at the same time.”

“Sorry,” the redhead apologized a second time, quickly averting her gaze. 

“Should we get started?” Fallon asked, rather than pushing the subject any further. She gestured to the bank of elevators behind their group and started to walk, both Jeff and Kirby following her.

He stood between them in the elevator, the soft music from whatever top 40 station that it was tuned to only adding to the discomfort in the tiny space, and Fallon felt like she was underwater, and only surfacing when the doors slid open and she was able to escape toward her office.

“I thought, if you weren’t feeling too jet-lagged, we could start to go over how to handle the talking points the critics will have once the theatrical release is-  _ Steven _ ?”

Fallon stopped dead in her tracks and Kirby smacked directly into her from behind, causing both of them to stumble a few steps into the office.

“Shit - sorry.” 

Ignoring her, Fallon reached around her and closed the office door, frowning in confusion at the sight of Steven leaning against her desk.

“No ‘hello’?” He asked. 

At a loss for words for a moment, Fallon tensely turned to face him again.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You stopped texting me after I couldn’t help you with your Alice probl -”

Making a quick slicing gesture across her throat from where she stood behind Kirby, Fallon shook her head, eyes widening in panic.

“Kirby!” Her voice was so sharp and loud that she saw the redhead tense her shoulders as if she’d been doused in cold water. “Steven, this is Kirby Anders.”

“I know,” he replied, reaching a hand out to shake Kirby’s. His response was warm, though - a compliment, not a brag. “I’m her brother.”

She stepped around to sit behind her desk, feeling a cold shakiness start up in her legs and work its way into her stomach. The wedding had been enough of a blur between her personal and professional lives.

‘“What Alice problem?”’ Was Kirby’s next question, turning to Fallon and narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Sit.” Fallon gestured at the seat across from her, and then turned her attention to Steven instead. “Could you please give us a minute?”

Once Steven (silently, awkwardly) let himself out and closed the door behind him, Fallon turned her attention back to Kirby and took a deep breath.

“What’s wrong with Alice?” Kirby demanded.

“Nothing, she just - it looks like she started dating again, and I wanted to have all of the information before I brought it up to you,” Fallon tried, watching Kirby’s face carefully for a sign that she was about to have some sort of angry outburst.

Instead, though, the redhead just sighed and buried her face in both of her hands, and then swept her hair back from her face with a little nod.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look surprised,” Fallon observed.

“She sent me a picture yesterday and some guy was in it. Please-” she held a hand up before Fallon could speak, “Save the ‘I told you so’s. I don’t really have the energy for it.”

Pursing her lips, Fallon mentally recited the ‘I told you so’ that she’d been planning since she’d seen the photos the first time, and then let it go.

“Alright. We should still talk about a few things, though. Are you sure you’re up for this? You look exhausted.”

She wasn’t sure where the concern had come from, but it was genuine, and she could feel it as she said it. 

“It’s fine.” Kirby flapped one hand dismissively, then sat upright and tried to clear what was an obviously upset look from her face before forcing a quick, tight smile. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t stay, Fallon. You know that.”

Steven crossed one ankle over the other and leaned against the kitchen island as he watched Fallon try to pull two wine glasses down from the rack.

“It’s not fair that you’ll come back for the stupid wedding but you won’t stay when  _ I  _ need you,” Fallon grunted quietly under her breath. She reached as best as she could before giving up and turning to Steven, gesturing for him to help.

“I stayed extra days for you,” Steven pointed out, sliding past her and taking down the glasses with ease. “Don’t do that.”

He pointed at her with one of the glasses when she rearranged her face into a pout, and then handed her both as he turned to uncork the bottle of wine on the island.

“I told you that she’s driving me insane, I need you here so I have someone to unwind with,” Fallon reasoned. 

It was partially true - the two days since Kirby had arrived home from the film festival had been surreal. She was nearly on top of Fallon at all times, texting her random questions at all hours of the night, always leaning forward to hang onto her every word when they had meetings - the enthusiasm was nice, but the clinginess was becoming unbearable. She wasn’t sure if it was just the unceremonious end to her courting Alice, the nerves about the theatrical release, or a combination of both, but she was beginning to lose her mind watching the actress upgrade to smoking an entire pack per day and asking Fallon to double- and triple-check every single detail.

“This is big for her,” Steven reminded her, pouring two generous servings into the glasses in Fallon’s hands, then taking one of them for himself. 

Fallon’s phone buzzed and she and Steven locked eyes for a moment, a small smirk growing on his lips that he was clearly trying to hide.

“Is that her?”

Glancing at her phone and seeing Kirby’s name flash on the screen, Fallon closed her eyes in frustration for a moment before wordlessly opening the message.

_ [7:30PM] Kirby Anders: hey just checking are you sure about the critic screening passes? _ _   
_ __   
It wasn’t a question for Fallon - or even her own manager - rather the production office itself, so Fallon ignored it just like she had the previous seven messages that had nothing to do with her. 

“Give her time,” Steven insisted. 

“What’s so good about Atlanta?” Fallon tried. “If you stick around, I bet you Dad would give you back your old office.” 

“Sam and I have a good setup in Atlanta. If the actresses and the bullshit are making you so miserable,  _ you  _ could come back.”

“You know I won’t do that,” she sighed defeatedly.

“I know,” Steven smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple before sidling into the living room and taking both of their glasses of wine with him. “Now, what’re we watching?”


	16. Chapter 16

Kirby awoke with a start at exactly 9:30 AM.

 

Her stomach was almost sore with anxiety, her legs felt restless, and no matter what position she tried to roll into, she couldn’t get comfortable. 

 

Premiere day.

 

Swinging her legs over the side of her bed and sitting still in the dark, Kirby enjoyed the split second of silence she had before her inner monologue began to slowly chip away at her.

 

_ People are going to be buying tickets and going to your movie and seeing you and judging you and forming opinions about you based on two hours. _

 

Wincing to herself and trying to avoid thinking too hard about it, she stood up and made her way over to the door, flicking on the lights and looking around to find her phone. 

 

She’d gotten just drunk enough the night before to regret a couple of text messages to old friends and lose track of her house keys. She’d said that she was celebrating, because it was a healthier excuse than calming her nerves with a twenty-sixer of vodka. 

 

Finding her phone tucked into the cushions of her couch, Kirby flopped down onto it and scrolled until she found Fallon’s name, typing up a message.

 

_ ‘You’re probably busy but call me when you get this.’ _

 

Not expecting an answer anytime too soon, she reached for her remote, then decided that avoiding television and  _ probably  _ the internet for the day would be a good idea. When the trailer had come out, Fallon had advised her to stay distracted. It hadn’t gone perfectly well, but the idea was right, so she decided to give it another try.

 

Thinking about trailer release day made her thoughts go back to Alice - something she’d been trying to avoid thinking about for the last couple of days - and she felt a little pang of disappointment hit her. 

 

She really  _ had  _ fucked up by procrastinating and overthinking. If she’d been smart enough to ask her out in the beginning, she could be curled up in her giant comfortable sea of a bed instead of sprawled awkwardly on her lumpy hand-me-down couch. 

 

With nothing to do in the living room, with no TV or internet, Kirby made herself a strongly mixed coffee and whiskey and then shuffled back to her bedroom. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d  _ read  _ a  _ book  _ just to entertain herself, but she pulled one from the small bookcase under her window at random and got comfortable at the head of her bed amongst her pillows.

 

She only made it twenty pages in before the protagonist started to remind her of herself, and as the plot began to develop, it sounded too similar to  _ Splintered Men _ , so she marked her page and closed the book, setting it aside defeatedly to finish her now barely warm coffee.

 

It had only been about half an hour, but the temptation to send Fallon another text -  _ maybe she’d read it and forgotten to answer! -  _ overwhelmed her quickly, and she had to literally sit on her hands to keep herself in her spot until she was sure that the urge had passed.

 

Grabbing her empty coffee mug and climbing out of the bed to make herself a refill, Kirby stretched and yawned, taking a look at the state of her bedroom. It desperately needed to be cleaned, but she figured she could save that activity for a distraction from the potential depression of the theatrical release going completely south. 

 

She thought about going out, but there had already been a noticeable uptick in the attention that she’d been getting as of late, and she’d been trying to stick to moving between her meetings, the liquor store, and her apartment without much else. Leaving her disheveled room and heading down the equally disheveled hallway, she realized how much she missed Alice’s apartment. It made Kirby wonder how many more years she’d be working for before she could responsibly live in a home like that one. 

 

Her phone buzzed just as she was pouring a shot into her fresh cup of coffee, and it startled her into pouring a much more generous amount than she’d planned to. Wincing and taking a quick sip in order to add more black coffee to dilute it, she reached for her phone and unlocked it quickly.

 

She didn’t see Fallon’s name and felt a slight twinge of disappointment, but as she flipped her messages open the disappointment was quickly replaced with confusion.

 

_ [10:02AM] Alice: today’s the day!!! _

_ [10:02AM] Alice: rmr you are beautiful and talented and amazing and i looooveeee youuuuuu! _

 

Kirby smiled a little bit to herself, pushing the sad feeling away. She was lucky to have someone like Alice. They did understand each other, and just because she might have missed the boat on turning their friendship into something more didn’t mean that she couldn’t still enjoy having her in her life.

 

_ ‘Thank you’,  _ she typed back. 

 

Making her way back to the couch, she flicked the television on and immediately was filled with dread when the last few seconds of the  _ Splintered Men  _ trailer flashed before her, followed by the narrators booming voice, announcing:

 

_ “Now in theatres.” _

 

Flicking the television back off immediately and slamming the remote down with an echoing ‘thwack’ onto the coffee table, Kirby froze in place to process, then chugged the entire mug in her hand.

 

_ ‘Hey, I’m actually seriously starting to freak out so please please please text me back when you get this’. _

 

She was barely even aware that she’d pulled Fallon’s name back up in her phone, but the text was sent before she could stop herself. 

 

Standing up and beginning to pace her small living room, Kirby weighed her options. Get drunk, maybe take a hot bath, and then nap until the dust had settled, or…

 

Glancing at her phone in her hand, she switched from her text thread with Fallon back to her thread with Alice and started to type with one hand.

 

_ ‘Are you busy today? I’m kind of losing it and could use some company.’ _

 

Staring at her screen as she made her way to the kitchen to put her empty mug away, she swore loudly and stumbled as she smacked her shin against the corner of the coffee table. Hobbling into the kitchen and trying to set the mug down in the sink gently despite the white hot frustration that had hit her, Kirby winced as her phone buzzed again.

 

_ [10:09AM] Alice: i’d love to see you girl but i’m taking a break on partying right now _

 

Frowning at her phone, Kirby reread the message a couple of times. She certainly hadn’t mentioned any kind of partying on the agenda. She thought about Fallon’s words to her before she’d left for the festival - about how she thought that not only was Alice messing with Kirby’s image, but that Kirby was enabling her. Was that really the truth?

 

_ ‘We don’t have to party. I just wanted to hang out,’  _ she texted back.

 

Wincing on her sore leg and making her way back toward the bathroom to shower, Kirby tossed her phone onto her bed from the doorway and stripped, hopping into the shower before she could lose her motivation to do anything other than lay in her bed and overthink.

 

The shower did help with a bit of the stress that was starting to physically make its home in her shoulders and neck, but did little to calm her down emotionally. A rejection from Alice in the same day as Fallon ignoring her and the movie being publicly released was just too much at once. She almost wanted to cry, just for the catharsis, but instead mentally planned to take a bottle of wine into the living room and draw the blinds for a movie night. 

 

Stepping out of the shower booth and towelling off her hair first before wrapping herself up in her fluffy - if not a little worn-down - robe from the back of the door, Kirby stepped into the much colder hallway and scurried back into her bedroom to find something warmer to wear.

 

Swiping her phone from the bed, she glanced at it as she pulled one of her dresser drawers open and froze.

 

_ [10:20AM] Alice: ok!! my place is a little crowded right now but i could be at yours in 45. _ _   
_ _ [10:20AM] Alice: i think i remember the building. Lmk! _

 

The next message was Kirby’s address - she couldn’t quite remember when she had given it to her, but she couldn’t remember quite a few things whenever Alice was involved, so she quickly confirmed and took a look at the time before panicking.

 

Rushing to speed-apply her makeup and blow dry her hair into a good balance of voluminous and not-too-frizzy, Kirby wondered for a moment if this was what Fallon felt like whenever the pressure of work seemed to make her hyper-focused; making plans for Kirby left, right, and center, and seeming to shut her emotions completely off like a light. 

 

Looking at herself in the mirror as she finished getting dressed and ready, Kirby let out a tiny sigh of relief. She’d made it with time to spare. Her gaze dropped from her reflection to the reflection of her messy bedroom, however, and she recalled that the rest of the apartment was in essentially the same state. 

 

She’d never cleaned as quickly in her life as she did then, vacuuming like she was trying to exfoliate the floor and using almost an entire container of wet wipes to clean every sticky spill of alcohol from the counters, the dust from the television set, and the stray hairs and lint from every other surface she could see.

 

Alice arrived just as Kirby had lit a cotton candy scented candle to try to disperse some of the chemical cleaner’s smell, and she practically tripped over herself to run to the door. 

 

“Hi!” Alice’s voice filled the entire front end of the apartment the moment that Kirby let her inside. “I missed you so much!”

 

She practically jumped into Kirby’s arms and she had to spread her stance just to steady them both and keep them upright.

 

“I know I said no partying but I brought you a present!” Alice swung a massive bottle of champagne out of her purse and held it out, and Kirby was shocked by the weight of it when she took hold of it herself.

 

“How was New York?” She finally managed to ask, feeling dumbstruck. She wasn’t sure if it was just an instance of absence making the heart grow fonder or if she really was stupidly crushing, but being around Alice again made her feel as fluttery and excited as she had on the first day.

 

“Ugh,  _ amazing _ !” Alice whirled around on the spot, where she was admiring the magnets haphazardly stuck to the fridge. “I wish we could have met up, but we’ll have to make a trip out of it.”

 

Kirby grinned at that, setting the champagne down on the kitchen counter and standing next to Alice as she admired the weird collection of Polaroids and other loose papers stuck to the stained fridge.

 

“I really like your place,” the singer informed her, smiling up at her brightly before swinging the fridge door open and pursuing its contents like she were in a grocery store.

 

“Can I help you find something?” Kirby asked, hearing the laugh creep into her tone.

 

“We need snacks.”

 

“For?” Kirby cocked her head to the side and watched the way the smile spread slowly across the other woman’s face - soft, with a little hint of mischievousness to it.

 

“We should watch a movie. Something relaxing,” Alice suggested. Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out a jar of pickles that were rarely eaten and set them down on the counter behind herself, turning back to the fridge to decide on what to pair them with. “You don’t have any chips, do you?”

 

Kirby snorted.

 

“No, but I could cook you a steak dinner. Garlic mashed potatoes, maybe some prawns? Steamed seasonal veg-” Before she could continue her joke, Alice stuck her tongue out and reached over, shoving her shoulder softly.

 

“Shut up.” Closing the fridge, Alice turned around to open the jar and shook her head in mock-disdain. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

 

Kirby felt her breath catch in her throat and her cheeks grow hot, both of which actions seemed to spur Alice on.

 

“You’re blushing again.” She reached into the jar and pulled a pickle out, using her acrylics like salad tongs. “You wanna pickle?” 

 

Her tone had turned teasing, and she held it out shaking it playfully at the redhead.

 

Narrowing her eyes playfully, Kirby reached out and swiped for it, laughing outright when Alice yanked it away from her reach and took a bite from it, twisting away when Kirby reached for her again and darting to the other side of the counter.

 

“You come into  _ my  _ home, insult  _ my  _ snacks, and then make fun of me?” 

 

Alice nodded once, taking another bite.

 

“Mhm!” She confirmed, crunching as obnoxiously as possible before her expression softened and she smiled genuinely. “Ugh, I did miss you. Does your publicist know I’m here? Are we gonna get in trouble?”

 

Being reminded of Fallon pulled every flirty, giddy thought from Kirby’s brain, and she remembered everything going on between herself, Alice, and whoever else.

 

“No, Fallon’s… busy today,” Kirby lied. 

 

“Good.” Alice grinned at her, popping the rest of the pickle she’d started into her mouth and wandering over to the couch to collapse on it. “D’you have a cat?”

 

“A cat? No.”

 

“A dog?” Alice tried next.

 

“No pets,” Kirby confirmed, before she could get stuck in a listing cycle. “Why?”

 

“Don’t you get lonely?”

 

“You live alone, too,” Kirby pointed out, coming over to the couch as well and maneuvering herself onto it around Alice’s stretched out, comfortable position.

 

“Yeah,” Alice agreed, “But I always have friends and family over. It’s way too big of a place for just one person.”

 

“I don’t think this,” Kirby gestured around them, “is too big for one person.”

 

It was self-deprecating, and even a little defensive, but Alice didn’t bite. In place of where Fallon would have agreed derisively, Alice just shrugged and smiled.

 

“It’s cozy. I just don’t think I could be alone all of the time. I hate sleeping by myself.”

 

Kirby thought of the man from the photos and tensed in her spot a little bit.

 

“What did you want to watch?” Alice asked, smiling obliviously. Before Kirby could answer, her entire face lit up excitedly. “Ooh, can we watch the movie? Please, please,  _ pleeeeease,  _ I know you have a copy of it around here somewhere.”

 

“I’m not supposed to -”

 

“Come  _ on _ !” Alice begged, her grin growing as if she could see the encouraging cracks in Kirby’s defenses already showing through. “I promise I won’t spoil it. And I already have a ticket for tomorrow night, anyway, I’m  _ totally  _ still helping with opening weekend numbers!  _ Pleeeease? _ ” 

 

Shifting and pulling her knees underneath herself on the couch, Alice crept closer to the actress, eyes lit up mischievously. 

 

“I’ll never ask for anything ever again,  _ please,  _ come  _ on! _ ” 

 

Scooting back a little on the couch, Kirby shook her head, but the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach made her grin in spite of herself. Resistance, in the face of Alice’s thousand watt grin and hopeful giggling, was futile.

 

The smaller woman pounced on her, and they wrestled against each other’s arms for a moment between fits of laughter until Alice managed to weave their fingers together, pinning Kirby’s arms above her head.

 

“Okay. Uncle. I yield,” she insisted, staring up at the singer as her smile faded and her eyes darkened.

 

“Good.” Alice cleared her throat and slid off of her, letting Kirby sit up to grab the movie from the stand and put it into the player. Her hands shook a little as she tried to process what had just happened - or almost happened - but she returned to the couch as if everything was normal and settled in for the beginning of the movie.

 

“So how long were you shooting for?”

 

Kirby glanced over at Alice, smiling a little bit at the question.

 

“Do you really want to know or are you asking because it’s polite?”

 

Alice grinned.

 

“I just like listening to you talk.” She scooted closer, then sprawled her legs across Kirby’s lap, making her breath catch in her throat again.

 

Resting one hand delicately on her calf, she glanced at the screen again, trying to focus - or at least do a better job of pretending to.

 

“You’re really not even gonna look at me?” Alice asked, after another moment. 

 

Kirby turned to her again and caught her eye.

 

“What’s the deal with you and that guy?”

 

Alice’s brow furrowed in what looked like genuine confusion.

 

“What guy?”

 

“The guy from the photo you sent me,” Kirby explained. “When I was in the Hamptons? And the guy you’ve been all over LA with.”

 

Alice chewed her lip in concentration for a moment, then giggled.

 

“You mean Reese?”

 

Kirby shrugged, feeling the embarrassment well up inside of her. Why had she even asked? It wasn’t any of her business.

 

“Reese is  _ gay,  _ Kirby.” Alice grinned brightly and scooted closer, pressing the backs of her thighs to Kirby’s leg. “...Were you jealous?”

 

“Why would I be jealous?” Kirby asked, feeling herself stumble over the words. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and was sure it was audible from across the couch. 

 

“Because your cheeks are all red.” Alice came even closer still, practically climbing into her lap. Kirby could smell her perfume and laundry detergent all wrapped into one, and automatically slipped a hand around the small of her back to steady her in place. 

 

Reaching out and cupping the redhead’s face, Alice’s eyes flicked back and forth between hers, before she repeated: “Reese is gay.”

 

“I heard you the first time,” Kirby muttered, eyes dropping to the other woman’s lips for a moment.

 

“Kirby,” Alice laughed softly and shook her head, like she was just missing out on the punchline of a joke. “ _ I’m  _ gay. Did I not make that clear?”

 

Kirby shook her head very slightly, and Alice sighed.

 

“I like you. I brought you champagne. Wasn’t that a good enough hint?”

 

Kirby immediately thought of Fallon.

 

“I didn’t-” she started to try to talk herself out of the corner she felt pushed into, but Alice just smiled and let go of her face.

 

“I like you,” she said, simply.

 

“I… like you too,” Kirby admitted, feeling like a sudden weight had been pulled off of her chest. The room felt brighter, suddenly; the sugary sweet scent of the candle on the kitchen counter suddenly filling her senses in the most pleasant way.

 

“Good.” 

 

Alice leaned closer to her and hesitated for a moment, but Kirby closed the gap between the two of them and kissed her. 

 

Laughing quietly into it, Alice carded her fingers into Kirby’s hair and deepened the kiss, pulling herself the rest of the way into her lap and moving to straddle her waist in a single fluid movement. 

 

“Are you sure you want to-” Kirby’s next words were cut off when Alice kissed her again, gently tugging at Kirby’s shirt and sliding her hands underneath.

 

“I’m sure if you are,” she breathed, staring down at the other woman with so much intensity that Kirby found herself holding her breath. Managing to just nod in response, she let out an embarrassing noise of surprise when Alice’s hand shot up the back of her shirt and started to fiddle with the clasp of her bra.

 

“Good,” Alice hummed. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Babe,” Alice’s voice woke Kirby from her peaceful nap, and the first thing she noticed was the crick in the back of her neck. Sleeping on the couch was never a good idea - not even for a quick nap. “Babe, you’ve got company.”

Wincing a little and sitting up, Kirby glanced around for her shirt in preparation to answer the door, but found that her  _ company  _ had already let themselves in.

“Morning!” Fallon’s voice was sharp, and Kirby recognized the white hot irritation in it immediately. 

“What did I say about breaking into my apartment?” She mumbled, as Alice helpfully handed her her shirt from earlier. 

“You texted me and then you said you were freaking out. When I called you  _ six times  _ and you didn’t pick up, I was worried we’d had a repeat of last time. I guess I was half-right.” Fallon crossed her arms and stood before the two of them.

Alice spoke next, reaching for her own sweater and tugging it over her head.

“Hey, Fallon,” she greeted, shooting the other woman a sly smile before standing up and sighing. “Where did my pants end up?”

Kirby gestured to the floor across the living room, rubbing her neck irritably and watching as Alice hopped around into her jeans for a moment.

The silence was painfully awkward, but Fallon seemed to be pleased with the results of her latest B & E.

“Well, if you don’t need my help,” Fallon started, giving Kirby a knowing look as her double-edged words cut through the tension like a hot knife, “I’ll be heading back to the office. Don’t ever send out an SOS again unless it’s an emergency. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“See you tomorrow,” Fallon hummed, turning on her heel.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Alice chirped, sliding past Fallon and shooting her such a sickly faux-sweet smile that Kirby’s teeth ached just from watching. “I was just on my way out.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Fallon offered, and Kirby felt a chill run up her spine as she watched them both head to the door.

“Wait, guys-”

  
“Nine o’ clock  _ sharp  _ tomorrow, Kirby, don’t forget,” were Fallon’s parting words, and with that, she led the way out, Alice hot on her heels.


	17. Chapter 17

“Are you sure you have to leave?” Michael propped himself up on his elbow and leaned against the pillows at the head of the bed, looking over at Fallon hopefully. 

 

Smiling reassuringly and then pushing the sheets down her chest to sit up, Fallon rolled her shoulders a little and then swung her feet over the side of the bed.

 

“Sorry, babe.”

 

“I thought you had the day off,” he complained, but she could hear him trying to keep his voice neutral.

 

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to do.” 

 

Behind her, she felt him shift on the bed and then felt his lips press to her bare shoulder. 

 

“What could possibly be more important right now?”

 

She could hear the playfulness in his voice and smiled, turning her head to glance at him.

 

“I have to meet up with -”

 

“ _ Kirby _ . Right.” Sliding away from her, Michael gave her a small, understanding - if not defeated - smile, and then slipped out of the bed himself. “I’ll call you later?”

 

“I might be busy,” Fallon pointed out, but he just shrugged as he located his underwear and stepped into them.

 

“You’ve been here every night for a week. I like my odds.”

 

Laughing softly in surprise, Fallon stood up and dropped the sheet altogether, watching his jaw go slack as she made her way towards him. 

 

“Don’t get cocky.”

 

Leaning down and kissing her briefly, Michael slid one arm around her waist and then turned her away from him, toward her own clothes stacked neatly on the chair by the door.

 

“You’re going to be late.”

 

He left her to it, and she dug out her phone as she stepped into her dress from the night before. At the top of her email inbox were two photos of Kirby -  _ and Alice -  _ sipping drinks the evening before on a rooftop patio that Fallon didn’t recognize. The photos were ultimately harmless and blurry, but she rolled her eyes to herself and saved them before she reached for her shoes.

 

Making her way out to her car, Fallon flipped through her phone and sought out Kirby’s name, quickly typing a text with one hand as she reached for her keys with the other.

 

_ ‘This isn’t a good idea,’  _ she reminded her, attaching both of the photos of Kirby and Alice to the message. The response was almost immediate, her phone chirping at her as she started the ignition.

 

_ [8:16AM] Kirby Anders: mind your business boo _ _   
_ _   
_ Rolling her eyes  __ again  and picking the phone back up, Fallon shot back:

 

_ ‘Give Kirby her phone back unless destroying her campaign is your way of entertaining yourself between tour legs.’ _

 

She pulled away from the curb and made her way onto the main road, slamming one hand down against the radio to turn it off the moment that she heard Alice’s voice starting to sing through the speakers.

 

Keeping one eye on the road but letting her attention drift back to her phone as it chirped once more, Fallon read the text quickly and snorted.

 

_ [8:18AM] Kirby Anders: hey _

 

“Ok Google, text Kirby Anders - ‘could you be more immature’. Send.” One she heard the telltale ‘whoosh’ of a successfully delivered text, Fallon sat back in the driver’s seat, a satisfied smirk growing across her face.

 

In the week that had passed since the theatrical release, Kirby had come out of her shell a little more. It was nice to see her actually leaving her apartment more, being photographed out and about wearing the PR-package clothing and keeping her image looking clean by being spotted in farmer’s markets, charity events, and the like - but being attached to Alice Alby at the hip had been the less desirable outcome.

 

It seemed like every time Fallon phoned her, she was just  _ there  _ in the background - Kirby had once even had the car Fallon sent for her after a meeting take her to Alice’s apartment instead of her own. It was nauseating.  

 

Checking her phone once more as she parked in the underground lot beneath her condo complex, Fallon rolled her eyes at the message on the screen.

 

_ [8:41AM] Kirby Anders: did you need something or are you just checking in? _

 

It was polite enough, but she could practically hear the irritation in the other woman’s words.

 

She made her way towards the elevator as she replied, trying to keep her hands from shaking in frustration as she typed.

 

_ ‘Are we still going over public-vote debriefing today, or are you busy?’ _

 

Kirby didn’t answer her until Fallon had let herself into her apartment.

 

_ [8:51AM] Kirby Anders: i have alice with me, but i’ll be there. _

 

Groaning softly to herself, Fallon tossed her phone onto the couch dismissively and tugged her jacket off, turning to head upstairs to her bedroom and put it away. She’d only had the displeasure of running into Alice one time, aside from her walking in on what had clearly been impromptu couch sex, and she didn’t have any interest in reliving it. She’d been picking Kirby up from drinks with Alice to take her to a meeting when the singer had practically shoved Kirby against Fallon’s passenger door to kiss her goodbye. The side street was completely empty save for just them, but it still set Fallon immediately on edge, rolling the window down so quickly that Kirby nearly fell into the car as Fallon yelled at the two of them to cut it out.

 

_ ‘Whatever,’  _ she texted back, once she made her way back downstairs to the living room to retrieve her phone.  _ ‘It’s not like we have time to get her a babysitter with such short notice.’ _

 

Making herself a coffee and then settling in at the kitchen island with it, Fallon pulled her work laptop closer to herself and dug through her files for an NDA template. If Kirby was going to keep Alice so close at all times, Fallon would at least make sure she handled some of the narrative before the public made up their own version of what was going on.

 

_ Kirby,  _ as it turned out, didn’t seem to know what was going on, either. Even when Fallon pressed her for details, she’d often shrug or change the subject - if she was in one of her increasingly more common hungover states, she’d even snap at her to mind her own business. 

 

Not that she’d ever admit it out loud, but she was beginning to miss the snarky banter that she’d grown accustomed to before Kirby had fallen completely dumbstruck over the singer.

 

Making sure that the NDA was set to print in her office and be ready for her when she arrived early that afternoon, Fallon closed her laptop and stood upright, finishing off her coffee. Seeing Alice hadn’t been in her plan for the day, but now that she’d have to, she was going to need a lot more caffeine - and perhaps a Xanax. 

 

Alice was the physical form of everything that Fallon hated about Hollywood. She’d been lucky throughout her career to have dealt with plenty more people like Kirby than like Alice, but when the occasional few slipped into her workload, it was always a nightmare. 

 

She couldn’t discount that the woman worked hard, and having been witness to some of her brother Steven’s less desirable vices, she understood that the attention and money could weigh on her mental state enough to make her want to turn elsewhere for relief, but... to drag Kirby into it, fresh-faced and bright-eyed and completely unaware of what she was  _ really  _ getting herself into - it was cruel. Fallon’s own love of singing, and personal musical background, made her wonder why on earth anyone would intentionally grab for the spotlight, only to act coy or ungrateful when they finally got the attention that they were begging for. There were plenty of creative outlets that Alice, or anyone else, could have been funneling their passion and talent into - creative outlets that didn’t come with paparazzi harassment and the fear of  _ Instagram _ ming the wrong moment.

 

She suspected that Alice didn’t hate any of the attention as much as she liked to pretend that she did, though.

 

Fallon much preferred Kirby’s honesty - reacting genuinely each time someone jumped out to photograph her or when she found out that her Twitter had jumped by another ten thousand followers overnight. Sometimes she was excited and friendly; other times she withdrew, visibly nervous. It was refreshing - especially when she was enjoying herself; giving Fallon an apologetic smile when the two of them were approached during a lunch meeting - too flattered that someone even wanted to stop her just to say ‘hello’ to be upset about being interrupted. 

 

Her buzzing phone snapped her out of her head, bringing her attention back to the real world - and a shot of Kirby, Alice, and a few others that Fallon didn’t recognize in a slightly blurry black and white photo. Cristal had texted it to her - and the fact that she was still doing recon while on her honeymoon irritated Fallon to no end. Not only was it ruining  _ Fallon _ ’s honeymoon - the one with herself, because her father and Cristal weren’t around to bother her - but it also shot her ‘you don’t work hard’ theory in the face. 

 

It was clearly from Instagram, cropped so that Fallon could read the caption below.

 

_ “Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends.” _

 

Groaning out loud and rolling her eyes, Fallon didn’t bother trying to keep the smirk off of her face before texting Cristal back.

 

_ ‘That would make a great tramp stamp’ _

 

Not bothering to wait for a reply, she went back to the photo to study it better. The outfit was the one that Kirby had been wearing the night before - which was a relief. The last thing Fallon wanted was to have her and Alice roll into a meeting tipsy. One of them was enough to handle.

 

Fallon tucked her empty mug into the dishwasher and made her way back upstairs to shower and get ready for the meeting. Usually, her morning routine was her one chance to be entirely alone with her thoughts with no distractions, but thoughts of Alice and Kirby continued to creep into her mind and turn her relaxation into itching anxiety. 

 

Cutting her shower short when she was finished washing, Fallon got redressed quickly and tried to mentally prepare herself for the meeting ahead. 

 

The drive was cruelly shorter than usual, with very little traffic keeping her locked in place, every light seeming to turn green as she approached. It wasn’t the blessing that it would have been on any other day, though, not when she was dreading what was waiting for her at the office. 

 

Unsurprisingly, Kirby was late. More surprisingly, she was alone.

 

The redhead let herself into the office without knocking, followed by one of the newer interns - who handed her a couple of bottles of water before making himself scarce - and settled in at the coffee table across from Fallon’s desk.

 

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Fallon asked, hoping her tone appropriately expressed her disinterest in the answer.

 

“Downstairs, taking pictures,” Kirby explained, opening one of the bottles and taking a sip. She looked tired - they’d clearly had a late night.

 

“In front of  _ our  _ building? Kori isn’t going to like that,” Fallon hummed, trying not to sound as amused as she was. 

 

“Kori is her manager, not her mother - and she’s  _ really  _ nice, by the way.” Kirby’s voice turned suddenly defensive, and only then did Fallon hear the gravelly sleepiness to it.

 

“ _ You  _ met up with Kori?”

 

Kirby glanced up and caught Fallon’s eye.

 

“I mean… casually, yeah.”

 

“Are you  _ looking  _ for a new manager?” Fallon demanded, sitting up straighter in her seat behind her desk. “Right  _ now _ ?”

 

“No,” Kirby sighed, speaking slowly but audibly growing more and more impatient. “I’m not. And even if I was, it wouldn’t be in the middle of all of this, and it wouldn’t be any of your business, either.”

 

Before Fallon could respond, her office door was pushed open again, and Alice breezed into the room, followed quickly by a frightened, if not a little starstruck-looking intern.

 

“Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?” Fallon sighed under her breath, watching as Alice glanced around the room curiously.

 

“Sorry, Ms. Carrington, I was -” the intern tried to explain, but Fallon dismissively waved a hand for him to leave, and he took off before she could say another word.

 

“This space is cute,” Alice finally decided, turning around to look at Fallon and cocking her head to the side. Setting her jaw, Fallon linked her hands together to keep from gripping the edge of the desk in frustration and placed them on top of her desk.

 

“Can we get started?” Kirby piped up, causing both women to turn their attention to her, instead. “I’m really tired.”

 

Alice made a sympathetic noise which caused Fallon to roll her eyes, but when the singer turned back to face her again, she quickly searched her face for similar signs of tiredness. 

 

There were none. With a fresh face of makeup and her shiny long hair pulled back into a large bun at the top of her head, Alice looked like she’d spend her evening drinking coconut water before heading to bed for a deep, uninterrupted eight-hour rest. There were signs of her lifestyle present, though, when Fallon paid more attention. The dryness in her eyelids, the way she gritted her jaw whenever the air conditioning kicked in in the room - she covered herself well, but there was a specific sort of fragility to everything she did that told Fallon she wasn’t okay; she was just a veteran in acting that way.

 

Kirby, however, was visibly exhausted. Fallon was tempted to drop a quick ‘told you so’ - and might have, if Alice weren’t there. It wasn’t the worst condition that Fallon had ever seen her in, but clearly her prediction about Alice running her into the ground with her lifestyle sooner rather than later was beginning to prove itself to be true. 

 

“If you’re going to be sitting in on this, or any future meetings, you’re going to have to sign an NDA,” Fallon informed Alice, reaching back behind herself to her printer and pulling out the form she’d sent from home earlier. 

 

Alice glanced over at Kirby, who simply shrugged, then back at Fallon.

 

“I’m not supposed to sign anything my lawyer hasn’t looked at.”

 

“It’s an NDA - how many of these have you shoved at people who took a bad photo of you? If you want to go make a call, do it, but can you… do it out there?” Fallon gestured at the door, then gestured between herself and Kirby. “We have work to do.”

 

Alice stared her down for a moment.

 

“ _ Fine _ ,” she snapped, snatching the paper from Fallon’s hand. Getting comfortable on the couch next to Kirby, she slapped the page down onto the coffee table to sign it.

 

“Now, if we’re all ready, lets go over your social media campaign.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where are you?” 

Even through the phone, Fallon could hear the annoyance in Monica’s tone. 

Her good luck in transit from earlier had entirely diminished by the time she left what had been a  _ very  _ emotionally draining meeting, and now she was stuck in traffic, still a good six blocks from  _ Le Grand. _

“I’m sorry,” Fallon groaned, fiddling with the volume on the dashboard of her car. “I was kept long thanks to  _ Alice  _ and now I’m sitting in traffic. I promise I’m close by.”

“Good,” Monica practically snapped. “Don’t make me ask the bartender a bunch of your embarrassing secrets. Or tell him some myself.”

The threat was playful, but the realization that she’d left Monica and Michael together -  _ without her -  _ made her blood turn cold in her veins for a moment. 

“I said I’ll be there. Just… hang tight. Get me a drink. You wouldn’t believe the meeting I just had.”

“Southside?”

“Stronger.”

“Arsenic?”

“You’re not funny!” Fallon sing-songed, before hanging up the call and then banging on her steering wheel in frustration. 

Alice’s constant interruptions in the meeting had been distraction enough, even without Fallon trailing off mid-sentence more than once when she caught Kirby rubbing the other woman’s knee or casually smoothing her clothing out for her. Despite the obvious partying that was going on on the surface, watching the tiny, almost immeasurable little acts of intimacy was nauseating. 

It reminded her too much of Michael - with all of the soft touches and shoulder kisses and ‘just stay a little longer’s. It was too  _ touchy  _ and romantic for any sort of ‘just friends’ situation, which Kirby continued to insist was all that was going on with Alice. If she had to hear one more stupid explanation about how they just  _ understood  _ each other and Fallon  _ wouldn’t get it _ , she’d rip her hair out. 

When she finally made it to  _ Le Grand _ and passed her car off to the valet, Monica was already sitting at the bar waiting for her. 

“You finally made it!” She announced, getting up from her seat as Fallon approached. “I guess my threat worked.”

“Threat?” 

Michael turned around from where he was reorganizing the shelves behind the bar, catching Fallon’s eye and giving her a small nod in greeting.

“I told her that if she didn’t hurry up, we’d amuse ourselves by talking shit about her.” Monica turned her attention back to the bar and slid back into her seat.

“Oh,” Michael chuckled. “Where should we start?”

Before the ribbing from either of them could continue, Fallon climbed onto the stool next to Monica’s and cleared her throat.

“I’m here now. And I need a drink.”

Michael slid two shot glasses across the bar in front of the two women, smiling understandingly when Fallon shot him a confused look.

“Monica said you had a rough meeting.”

Turning to Monica in even more confusion, Fallon raised an eyebrow, but her friend just shrugged.

“You left me here alone with no one to talk to but the bartender.”

“Ouch.” Michael dramatically grabbed at his chest, and Monica laughing in response caused Fallon to flit her gaze back and forth between the two of them, eyes narrowing.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Monica admitted, taking her shot without waiting for Fallon and sliding the empty glass back across the bar. 

Fallon watched the two of them brush fingers as Michael took the glass away, and when her friend finally turned to catch her eye, she looked alarmed. 

“ _ What  _ was  _ that?” _ Fallon demanded.

“What was  _ what _ ?” Monica frowned.

“ _ That _ .” Fallon gestured at where Michael had walked away, picking up her own shot glass and sniffing it experimentally. It was sweet - almost sickly - but familiar. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Like I said, you left me here alone. I made a friend.” Monica gave her an odd look before reaching for her cocktail, pushed aside to make room for the shot, and then taking a quick sip. “D’you want to talk about the meeting, or is this going to be cathartic drinking in silence?”

Fallon sighed apologetically.

“Sorry. I just can’t stand that girl.”

“Kirby?” Monica’s voice suddenly sounded alarmed.

“No.” Fallon waved a hand. “Alice.”

“I thought Alice was off-limits ever since Kori’s group got ahold of her,” Monica replied, leaning back in her seat a little as Michael returned and slid a fresh Southside in front of Fallon.

“She’s not  _ ours,”  _ Fallon explained. “She’s just constantly wrapped around Kirby like…”

“A leech?” Monica suggested.

“A noose,” Fallon corrected.

Monica made a low, whistle-like sound under her breath and leaned forward again, resting one elbow against the bar as she steadied her gaze on Fallon.

“If you seriously think she’s going to be that big of an issue, maybe you should -”

“I’m not dropping Kirby, Monica,” Fallon groaned. “We’re only a week away from nomination announcements, and the office is hectic enough as it is right now. The last thing I need is to be lumped in with a bunch of loose ends and ruin my record  _ and  _ all of the hard work I’ve already put in.”

“Okay.” Monica held both hands up in her surrender as Fallon reached for her drink and took a generous sip. “I just hope you don’t burn out before this is over. If she gets that nomination, you’re stuck until February.”

“ _ When,”  _ Fallon corrected.  _ “When  _ she gets the nomination.”

“You’re the expert,” Monica conceded. “Just don’t overdo it.”

Smiling a little bit, almost apologetically, Fallon nudged Monica’s knee with her own before turning to face the bar again and swirling her straw around in her drink.

“Have you talked to Jeff a lot since they’ve been back? I don’t see him around the office as often.” 

Monica cleared her throat.

“He’s just been really busy. I don’t see him all that often, either.”

“He barely has any clients,” Fallon pointed out, frowning into her drink. “He always has a quiet season.”

“Well, he still has his own life,” Monica pointed out in response. “I can get him to call you, if you needed something.”

“No.” Fallon waved a hand. The last thing she needed was Jeff thinking she was breathing down his neck, or worse, that she was in need of his help again. “No, just wondering what he was up to. Should we just get one more round and go?”

Monica tore her gaze away from where she was staring Michael down at the other end of the bar, glancing at Fallon and then shaking her head.

“Nah, let’s hang out here for a bit.” 

Sipping her drink again and glancing up at the television behind the bar, Fallon groaned as she caught sight of Alice on the screen, a shaky and messily zooming shot of the singer taking photos with fans outside of the Carrington PR office building. 

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, wincing as her phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. 

_ [4:33PM] Kori Rucks: Did you have my client sign something? _

A shot of adrenaline made her hands suddenly feel shaky and unstable, so instead of responding, Fallon simply turned her phone off and set it face down on the bar. The anxiety that suddenly washed over her made her feel sick, and she stood up quickly, grabbing Monica’s arm.

“I actually really don’t feel good. I’m sorry, we have to do this another time.”

She could hear the nervous waves in her own voice but couldn’t get a handle on it. Monica looked concerned for a moment, steadying her as she hopped down from her seat.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just - I’m gonna go. This round’s on me,” she promised, digging around in her wallet and then slapping a few bills onto the bar top.

“Okay - well - call me?” Monica tried to process everything as it happened quickly, but Fallon was already halfway to the door. Turning around and glancing back through the swinging door as she handed the valet her keys, Fallon saw Monica lean over the bar to talk to Michael, her concerned look melting into a laugh as he said something to ease her nerves - and then the door swung shut, leaving her alone in the hot sun.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the Oscars are announced digitally now. I know. But it takes the fun out of it. Let's just pretend.

“You’re up early,” Kirby noted through a yawn, stretching out comfortably in Alice’s bed. Reaching over to the nightstand, she grabbed the tiny prescription bottle labelled ‘Alby, Alice’, and quickly poured a few pills into her hand to take. She admired Alice quietly for a moment, watching her comb through her hair in the mirror by the open ensuite bathroom door. 

 

“Big day today,” Alice replied, turning to glance at her with a tiny smile. She looked - and sounded - sleepy. The pair of them had had a relatively long night, which was rare when it was only the two of them spending time alone. Kirby felt a little guilty for keeping her up as late as she had.

 

“Oh yeah? What’s happening?” Kirby asked, climbing out of the bed and making her way into the bathroom as well and reaching for the spare toothbrush. She could already feel the medication settling in over her body. It was no wonder that Fallon had been popping the things like Pez candy on their flights - she already felt less concerned about the Oscar nominations, which was something she knew she wouldn’t have been able to get a grip on unmedicated.

 

“I have to go lay down that collab with Lewd and then we’re going to go over some of the choreo before I take off again,” Alice explained, glancing over at Kirby again and then sighing. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to take a break? It’s Europe. London… Paris… none of this is checking any boxes for you?”

 

Pausing in brushing her teeth to speak, Kirby covered her mouth with the back of her hand and thickly replied, “You know Fallon would skin me alive.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Alice turned her attention back to her reflection and shrugged.

 

“I don’t know why she keeps you on such a tight leash. It’s almost embarrassing.” 

 

Kirby felt a cool flood of discomfort wash over her, but she spat into the sink and rinsed, setting the toothbrush aside and turning to Alice with a slow-growing mischievous smile.

 

“What? You don’t want me to win that Oscar?”

 

Reaching out and gently grabbing the other woman’s waist, Kirby pulled her back towards herself a little, lighting up when Alice half-laughed and half-whined in response.

 

“ _Stop_ \- I have to finish getting ready.”

 

Tucking her chin over the other woman’s shoulder and looking at her through her reflection in the mirror, Kirby raised an eyebrow.

 

“What time are you gonna be back?”

 

Alice chewed her lip, pausing where she was starting to apply her lip balm, and met Kirby’s eye.

 

“Probably not until late. Or early, if you want to get technical, I suppose.”

 

Kirby frowned immediately, and Alice started to do damage control.

 

“Hey - don’t do that. You know this last week before I leave is a mess. I warned you that it would be,” Alice insisted.

 

“They’re announcing the nominations tonight. You’re seriously not going to be here?” Kirby let go of Alice so that she could turn around and face her properly. 

 

“Kirby,” Alice spoke slowly, reaching out and grabbing her by the hips. “It’ll be fine. You’ve got this, and we can celebrate when I’m home. If you’re not busy, we’ll get dinner before I fly out. Okay?”

 

Kirby nodded, defeated, and stepped away from Alice to turn and pull the oversized tour merch t-shirt she’d worn to bed over her head. Turning on the shower, she kicked her underwear aside and stepped in, taking a few deep breaths to keep herself relaxed. She found it surprisingly easy - she’d have to grab a handful of Alice’s anxiety meds on her way out, after a cup of coffee, just in case she needed them throughout the day. They were shockingly potent - they’d probably make dealing with Fallon a hell of a lot easier. 

 

She mentally kicked herself for not getting up when Alice had - she’d missed some of the very limited time that they usually had together in the mornings, and with the singer standing in the mirror, brushing her already clean hair and finishing her makeup application, there would be a zero percent chance of her joining her in the shower, either. 

 

Alice dropped Kirby back off at her own apartment on her way to the studio. The love-hate relationship that she had with her place always seemed to lean towards the negative side of the spectrum whenever Kirby had spent a night or two at Alice’s before coming home. It was dull, and cramped, and largely much more boring to spend time in than Alice’s penthouse. 

 

Entertaining herself by cooking lunch and having a few healthily-poured glasses of wine, Kirby enjoyed the warm haze from the medication she’d had earlier and settled in on her couch with a plate and a movie. Fallon had warned her to avoid paying attention to the competition until nomination day - and with only a few hours to go before the nominations were announced, Kirby thought it was probably a safe enough bet to check out a few of the movies she’d been waiting for the clear to see. 

 

It wasn’t until she’d finished the first movie on her list that Kirby felt the soft warmth wearing off, and a slow creep of jittery anxious nerves settling back in. What was going to happen if she didn’t get the nomination? Fallon had _never_ messed up her nomination streak - Kirby didn’t want to be the first. 

 

But on the other hand, what if she _did_ get the nomination? That alternative didn’t make her feel any more at ease, either. 

 

Her hand twitched and she knew that she reflexively wanted to phone Fallon. Once her go-to for every question or concern that she had, Fallon had slowly fallen away from her over the last short while. Their relationship, in which Kirby had finally felt she was making some breakthrough, had dissolved directly back to a professional one. She knew it was for the best - she didn’t need any conflicting feelings on top of everything else going on in her life - but she still did miss it whenever she sat down and let herself reminisce. 

 

Keeping Fallon at a professional arm’s length was probably for the best. 

 

…But that didn’t mean she couldn’t call her. This _was_ mostly work-related, after all. Besides, she knew that Fallon had a stash of Xanax on her most of the time.

 

Yes, she just needed to phone her, let the other woman put her mind at ease - she had done this a million times before, after all - and then she would feel a thousand times better about the nominations. 

 

_“Fallon Carrington.”_

 

Kirby resisted the urge to roll her eyes when the other woman answered. She _had_ caller ID - maybe Fallon was just trying to keep her at a professional arm’s length, too.

 

“Kirby Anders,” she chirped back, feeling a tiny smile creep onto her face when the woman on the other end groaned softly.

 

“What can I help you with, Kirby?” Fallon sounded resigned, and Kirby almost felt a little bad about bothering her on her day off. 

 

“Can you come over?” the actress asked, bringing one hand up to her face and chewing on her cuticle nervously before continuing, “Or can I meet you?”

 

“Is this is an emergency?” Fallon asked.

 

“Well, no, but -”

 

“Just spit it out.” Fallon’s tone was sharp, and stern. “Seriously, what do you need?”

 

“I just… am freaking out a little bit, right now.” Kirby realized that she had intentionally softened her voice, keeping it low, and almost sad-sounding, as if her subconscious had picked up on the fact that _somehow_ that specific pathetic and worried tone always seemed to make Fallon more susceptible to her. 

 

“And what, you’re out of heroin and pop stars?”

 

Kirby sighed, thinking about Alice for a moment. She was probably in the studio as they were speaking, having the time of her life - not that Kirby had the Instagram access to check anymore.

 

“Can you please just come?” 

 

“No,” Fallon huffed, “My car’s in the shop, and I’m at home.”

 

“God, if only there were some sort of service, maybe mobile-accessible, that -”

 

“I’m not taking a goddamn _Lyft_ , Kirby,” Fallon snapped, cutting her off. “And I’m not the one freaking out, so watch your tone.”

 

“ _Please_ , Fallon. Can I just… come there?”

 

Before Fallon could protest - Kirby could practically feel it in the moment of silence as she processed - she continued.

 

“I’ll - we can go somewhere else. I really don’t want to be by myself right now. Honestly, I thought you’d prefer this alternative. Being responsible, managing how I’m feeling, all of that?”

 

“Do you want me to give you _praise_ for _not doing drugs_?” Fallon asked, and Kirby could picture the look on her face without seeing her: disgust, and disbelief. 

 

“You’re being difficult,” Kirby insisted. “And you’ve broken into my apartment multiple times. At least I’m asking nicely.”

 

“I’m not bringing you to my place, Kirby.”

 

“You’re being obnoxious,” Kirby snapped, feeling her patience growing thin. “Forget it. I’m going to sit here and watch movies by myself and drink the rest of my wine. Maybe make a _new_ Twitter account. Bye.”

 

“Wait.”

 

Fallon groaned and Kirby could picture her burying one hand in her hair. 

 

“You can come over. _Just_ until the nominations are announced. And it’s because I don’t need you overdosing or drowning yourself in your kitchen sink on accident, _not_ because you tried to threaten me, which, by the way, you aren’t doing ever again if you expect me to work for you.”

 

Fallon’s tone was so genuinely severe and cold that Kirby almost didn’t process that she was letting her come over. She had never heard her sound so serious before. Not when she’d walked in on her and found her passed out on her living room floor, or when she’d first found out about how things had progressed with Alice. Even those few times that Fallon would tug a little too hard on her leash to remind her of who was running everything behind the scenes, there was always this small, shameful little thrill that Kirby managed to get out of it. There was nothing funny about her tone this time.

 

“Okay,” she replied, the pathetic tone not intentional anymore.

 

“I’m serious. Are we clear? You and I, this entire campaign, it’s done, if you try that again,” Fallon threatened. “Get that into your head. I’m only doing this because I don’t trust you. Be ready, I’ll send a car.”

 

She hung up before Kirby could confirm, and she was left in a very cold silence.

 

Not giving herself too much time to feel sorry for herself, the actress hauled herself up and headed into the bathroom to get ready. She’d saved herself time by showering that morning at Alice’s, but still pulled her makeup bag out from under the sink and dumped it onto the small amount of counter space that she had in preparation. She wanted to look put together, to try to show Fallon that she absolutely could still be trusted; that the threat had been a desperate mistake and she didn’t want to jeopardize their relationship. She changed her clothes, too, trying to find a good balance between humble and put together. 

 

She already felt a little bit more at ease knowing she would at least be with someone who knew what they were doing. Fallon’s confidence had a sort of calming effect on her - like the other woman always knew that everything was going to work out in the end.

 

Letting herself out of her apartment, and then out of the complex altogether, Kirby lit up a cigarette and watched the smoke spiral up into the air. Glancing up and down the road for the black car that she knew would be coming for her, she let her mind wander. Trying to imagine what Fallon’s apartment would look like was impossible. The photos she’d found of what Fallon swore was her old family home, which she no longer lived in, were opulent. Maybe Fallon’s place was like Alice’s - big and empty and lonely when she didn’t have company. Did Fallon ever have company? It was hard to picture her with friends, and Kirby knew that her relationship with her family was strained, at best. 

 

She tried to picture her with a boyfriend. Fallon had never mentioned living with anyone - but she also hadn’t mentioned living alone. In fact, the more that she tried to wrack her brain for any sort of memory of a hint that Fallon might have given her, the more she realized she didn’t have a clue.

 

She didn’t have a clue about _anything_ , really. At least, not when it came to Fallon. Kirby had tried so hard for a while to needle any bit of information out of her that she could to no avail, and hadn’t even realized it herself when she’d given up. Apart from briefly running into Steven in the office, and knowing just that she had a strained relationship with her father and stepmother, Fallon was a complete mystery to her. It was a wonder she’d ever thought she had feelings for her, at all.

 

A black car rolled up smoothly to the curb in front of Kirby, and she tossed her cigarette down, crushing the butt of it under her shoe before climbing in. Fallon’s whole cool mysterious cyborg act was obviously intentional. She kept Kirby out of her personal life, no matter how politely she asked to be included. 

 

Maybe letting Kirby actually see where she lived was a step in the right direction. The thought made her smile to herself a little bit, before remembering how the conversation they’d just had had gone, and cool, uncomfortable dread hit her instead.

 

The drive was longer than Kirby had been anticipating, though it made sense when she thought about it more deeply. Her neighbourhood was not exactly what she would expect Fallon to fit in with. They passed the Carrington PR office on the way, but it looked completely different now that Kirby wasn’t stopping in. It seemed smaller than usual - less daunting, maybe, especially now that she was about to go somewhere much more foreign. 

 

When the car finally did pull up to the _Circa_ building, Kirby felt a fresh wave of panic coming on. Stepping inside did nothing to ease it, looking up around at the marble floors and walls that were almost blindingly white. She immediately regretted the more ‘humble’ attire she’d chosen for the afternoon.

 

Fallon was waiting for her, though, Kirby assumed that had more to do with controlling how embarrassing Kirby was in the lobby than it did with her being concerned for her.

 

The brunette barely said anything in greeting, instead nodded towards the bank of elevators that nearly blended into the decor, and started to walk, clearly expecting Kirby to follow. Wincing at the sound of her own sneakers squeaking against the floor, she tried to tread lightly, burying the sound under the loud clicking of Fallon’s heels.

 

She didn’t try to speak until they were in the elevator together, alone.

 

“Fallon, I -”

 

“Save it.” Fallon cut her off, but then sighed, her tone growing softer immediately. “I - what the hell has gotten into you?”

 

Kirby glanced up at her, tearing her gaze away from the floor, and was shocked by how intensely the other woman was looking at her. She looked genuinely lost, for the first time.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kirby apologized, hoping that just how badly she meant it was evident in her tone. “I didn’t mean it, anyway. I wouldn’t do that. I just got scared.”

 

“Yeah, well, you can’t just pull the extortion card when you feel like you’re backed into a corner. That’s not how adults operate,” Fallon pointed out.

 

“It’s exactly how they operate,” Kirby argued, but watching the irritation returning to the other woman’s face made her backtrack. “But I know it was wrong. I _am_ sorry.”

 

Fallon watched her for a moment, before relenting.

 

“ _Fine_.”

 

The elevator doors slid open, and Fallon stepped out without waiting for her, heading down the hallway. 

 

“How long have you lived here?” Kirby asked, trying to change the subject as she trailed along behind her.

 

“Five months,” Fallon answered shortly, stopping abruptly in front of one of the doors and swiping her key fob against the lock. There was a quiet whirring sound, muffled within the door, then a satisfying ‘click’ before Fallon grabbed the knob and pushed the door open.

 

Kirby’s breath caught in her throat as she followed Fallon inside.

 

The open concept was similar to Alice’s place, but this was smaller, and much more heavily furnished. It was clutter-free, but it still seemed surprisingly _warm_ for what she would have imagined for someone like Fallon. It was bright in all of the places that it needed to be, shocks of white and minimalist designs sprinkled throughout, but it looked and felt comfortable. 

 

She followed Fallon all the way to the kitchen, hopping up at the island as the other woman dug around in her wine fridge.

 

“I like your place,” she offered.

 

Fallon was fidgeting - _had she not noticed it in the elevator, or was it new?_ \- and she put the wine bottle that she chose down on the island counter roughly enough to make Kirby jump in her seat a little.

 

“Thanks.” Her answer was stilted, but it sounded more distracted than annoyed. She turned around and retrieved two wine glasses, placing them down next as she started to uncork the bottle.

 

Tapping her hands awkwardly against the edge of the counter, Kirby glanced around the kitchen.

 

“D’you cook?”

 

“No.”

 

The one-word answers that Fallon seemed to be sticking to weren’t helping keep the conversation moving, but Kirby steeled her resolve, desperate to make the situation better.

 

Still, she pressed on.

 

“What were you doing before I interrupted you?”

 

Fallon lifted just her eyes to Kirby’s face as she poured wine into each glass, then turned her gaze down again.

 

“Working.”

 

“I thought it was your day off.”

 

Fallon shrugged stiffly, so as not to spill, but said nothing.

 

“Okay,” Kirby sighed, pushing her seat away from the island and hopping down from it, turning to make her way back into the living room instead.

 

“Where are you going?” It was the first full sentence that Kirby had managed to get out of the other woman, but her tone seemed panicked, so she tried not to feel too smug about it.

 

“I’m just going to sit down. Can I do that?” Kirby turned to look at the other woman, cocking her head to the side. It was _so_ obvious now, that the jumpiness she was picking up on was because of having Kirby in her place. It must’ve been difficult to try to maintain an air of having no personal life with Kirby standing right in the middle of everything she owned.

 

The realization that Fallon was stressed made Kirby pay a little more attention to the detail around her. Leaving Fallon in the kitchen, the redhead headed back into the living room and sat down on the couch, bouncing experimentally. Comfortable. Not the kind of couch one would buy for decor exclusively - it was something she could sleep on, if she needed to. She was certain of it, especially as she eyed the oversized throw blanket that was draped across the back of it. She pulled the tag closer to look at it.

 

Pure Cashmere. _Bottega Veneta._

 

“Are you going to tell me what you were freaking out about?” Fallon asked, her voice floating in from the kitchen.

 

Kirby dropped the corner of the blanket she was holding as if she were caught doing something wrong before stumbling through an answer.

 

“Uh, just… the nominations.”

 

“You know you’re getting one, though, right?” Fallon’s voice drew closer, and then the brunette appeared from around the corner, two full wine glasses with her. She made her way toward the couch, but Kirby stopped her before she could sit.

 

“Can I have a Xanax?”

 

Fallon froze, halfway towards her seat, then set the glasses down on the table and eyed the redhead.

 

“Just this once.”

 

Leaving the wine and disappearing towards the staircase, Fallon tapped away on her phone as she went, leaving Kirby alone again. Once she heard Fallon’s footsteps soften into nothingness as she went further and further away, Kirby hopped up from the couch and grabbed her glass of wine, making her way over to the shelf of photos near the television stand.

 

Fallon was in all of them, mostly with clients that Kirby recognized, sometimes with staff members that she’d seen roaming around Carrington PR. She had a few with a woman that Kirby didn’t recognize, and a couple more where she was with Steven - those ones looked much more personal.

 

Between the photos were framed clippings and full-page articles that featured her, and one magazine cover tucked away with the rest. 

 

“Anything interesting?”

 

Fallon’s voice close behind her made Kirby jump, _just_ managing to not slosh her wine over the rim of her glass.

 

“Sorry,” Kirby breathed, taking a sip to calm her heart rate.

 

Fallon held the open bottle out, waiting for Kirby to extend a hand before she dropped a pill into it. It felt foreign - being handed a single pill - but Fallon wasn’t the same type as the people that Kirby had been accepting pills from as of late.

 

“You can get back to whatever you were doing,” Kirby insisted. “Pretend I’m not here, or whatever.”

 

Fallon snorted, walking back towards the kitchen for a moment.

 

“Feels like you’re using me for my wine and prescriptions,” she commented, making her way back into the room and settling in on the couch. She reached for her wine and followed Kirby with her eyes as she made her way around the coffee table and towards the couch once more.

 

“I just don’t want to put you out more than I already have,” Kirby promised.

 

Fallon waved a hand dismissively, but said nothing to ease her mind.

 

The two of them drank in awkward silence for a moment before Fallon reached for the remote and turned on the television. Instantly, the room was filled with the sounds of crowds yelling and shots of red carpets full of other actors and actresses.

 

“Eugh,” she huffed, reaching for the remote, but Fallon batted her hand away.

 

“What did you just say about acting like you weren’t here?” 

 

“Right.” Sinking back onto the couch and letting her eyes glaze over to the entertainment news on the screen across from them, she sipped her wine again and then drummed her fingers against the spot on the couch between her and Fallon. “So what happens if I get the nomination?”

 

Before Fallon could answer, the screen changed, and Kirby felt her spine stiffen at the theme music of the Academy Awards. As the preamble to the nomination announcements began, Fallon turned to answer her, calm as ever.

 

“ _Once_ you get your nomination, we’ll start working together on nailing down as many of the public vote wins as we can, and then it’s business as usual. Like I said, it’s not particularly easy or helpful to try to actually pressure anyone on the board. But we can make you the audience’s favourite. An uproar if you lost would still be perfectly good publicity. Great publicity, actually. If you lose, people have to think you were snubbed. Otherwise, you’re just doomed to fade away into being a difficult pub trivia question.”

 

Kirby tried to focus on Fallon and not on the screen.

 

“And if I don’t get the nomination?”

 

Fallon tore her eyes away from Kirby, squinting at the screen instead.

 

_“And the nominees for best actress are…”_

 

“If, by some ridiculous hell-freezing-over outrage, you don’t,” Fallon explained, “Then this is it. We part ways.”

 

Kirby set down her wine glass and stuck her hand out.

 

“Well then, regardless of the outcome, it was a pleasure working with you.”

 

Humouring her, Fallon set her own glass down and took her hand. 

 

Fallon’s hand was cold, if not almost clammy in her own. Before Kirby could realize the implications of the other woman being genuinely nervous, or try to figure out whether it was because of the nominations, or the fact that she was in her place, she felt the other woman’s hand suddenly squeeze her own - so subtly, her head snapping to look at the screen again.

 

_“... Kirby Anders, Splintered Men.”_

 

“OH MY GOD!” Kirby shot up from the couch, still gripping Fallon’s hand and almost wrenching her arm out of the socket with the force that she pulled it with. “Holy _shit, holy_ SHIT!” 

 

She looked down at Fallon, who was visibly fighting off a grin, albeit a relieved one, and then shook her arm excitedly.

 

“Are you _kidding_ me? We have to celebrate!”

 

“Oh my god, I can’t feel my arm, can you please sit down?” Fallon whined, though a hint of a laugh split through it, and Kirby felt all of the adrenaline flooding through her extremities and making her feel like she had been switched to vibrate mode.

 

“Shut up!” Kirby insisted, even though she was laughing. “This is insane. This is _insane_.” 

 

Fallon laughed genuinely this time, and while it was the same Fallon, the tone sounded much more endeared than just amused. Very different from the stifled, snickering little laugh she’d get if Kirby managed to come up with a funny comeback on time or say the right joke at the right moment - this was carefree, and relieved, and _bright_. Hearing it made her feel like laughing herself, even though she knew if she admitted that out loud, Fallon would never let her hear the end of it for how corny the sentiment was.

 

Dropping herself back down to her spot on the couch, Kirby cut Fallon off, loosening her grip on her arm. Reaching out for her before she could stop herself, she dove in, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains character death (but also, it's Dynasty - we're used to it), drug addiction including its after-effects, excessive binge-drinking, alcoholism, recreational drug use and misuse of prescription drugs. The following chapter will recap the major plot-points to know from this chapter, in case you feel like skipping it would be in your best interest! Reader discretion is advised. :)

“Okay,” Fallon grabbed Kirby’s wrist surprisingly roughly, stopping her from completely upending her mini-flask into the glass on the small end-table beside herself. “That’s enough.”

 

Looking up at her in irritation, Kirby pulled her arm free, and then recapped the flask before tucking it into the inside pocket of her jacket. 

 

“I’m bored out of my fucking mind, Fallon,” she pleaded.

 

“It’s not much longer,” Fallon reasoned, sinking into the chair opposite the actress and quirking an eyebrow. “Three more, and you’re free to go.”

 

Kirby’s phone chirped and she pulled it out, dropping Fallon’s gaze to reply to the text.

 

“It’s Alice.” 

 

Fallon rolled her eyes, but then watched Kirby’s face for any sign of distress.

 

“Never mind. Drunk text.” Kirby sighed and tucked her phone away, glancing up as one of the interns from _Finite Online_ wandered past, coffees for the staff in hand. “Hey. Kid. Can you get me some ice?” 

 

She lifted what had, at one point, been a glass of tonic water, in gesture.

 

Fallon took a deep breath, squeezing both of her hands into fists for a moment before smoothing them across her lap. As Kirby raised the glass to her lips, Fallon spoke again.

 

“Let’s take a break.” 

 

Freezing in place, Kirby eyed her up for a moment and then set down the glass once more, standing up.

 

“Okay. I could use some air, anyway.”

 

Fallon breathed out a small sigh of relief, leading the way out of the almost cramped-feeling conference hall and through the lobby. Placing a hand delicately against Kirby’s lower back in suggestion, she gently nudged her towards another hallway instead of the front doors that would have directed them onto the street.

 

Kirby glanced at her wordlessly, but she simply pressed her hand to her back more insistently, the echoing click of her heels suddenly dampened as they stepped back onto carpeted floors. Fallon wasn’t even entirely sure where she was leading her, opting for the first door with a visible click-lock and pushing against it experimentally. It gave way immediately, and she stepped in first, dragging Kirby after her before locking it shut behind them both.

 

“I was thinking more along the lines of having a smoke,” Kirby started to protest, glancing around at what Fallon was realizing was just a custodian’s closet.

 

“Would you rather go do that?” Fallon asked, tugging her jacket down her shoulders without giving her mind any time to catch up with her actions. Hanging her jacket off of the nearest shelf, she reached for Kirby’s, next, and pushed it down her arms as she stepped closer to her.

 

Kirby didn’t seem to have another snarky comeback to that, the amusement and boredom dropping from her tone and expression to make way for pure focus, her eyes darkening. 

 

Fallon had barely managed to get rid of her jacket before Kirby kicked it away and grabbed her, pulling her in against herself and kissing her soundly. 

 

Burying her hands in the actress’ hair, Fallon pulled her even closer and pressed her body flush against the other woman’s, sighing quietly into her mouth as Kirby started to hike her skirt up for her mid-kiss. 

 

“We might get caught,” Kirby muttered softly, kissing her to punctuate her words. “I don’t know if this is the best place for -”

 

Fallon began to work at the buttons of her jeans, working them open and shoving a hand into them almost roughly, causing Kirby to stop talking abruptly. 

 

“Shh. We’re just taking a break,” Fallon reminded her, working her fingers under the hem of her panties and chuckling softly when Kirby’s fingers suddenly dug into her waist urgently, her head falling back in bliss. 

 

This had become an increasingly more common bad habit between the two of them, but Fallon didn’t let herself think about it too hard. Once the awards had ended, she’d let herself mull over the guilt and general embarrassment, but for the time being, whatever had been going on between them - she refused to address it - seemed to be having the desired effect of keeping the actress focused.

 

* * *

 

 

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

 

Kirby surging forward across the couch and kissing her had taken her completely by surprise. Freezing against her lips for a moment, Fallon was suddenly acutely aware of the feeling of her hands wrapped around her waist, pressed chest-to-chest with the woman that she’d barely so much as made prolonged eye contact with for the previous few weeks. 

 

But, she knew that emotions were running high, and the Kirby that she knew never had been very good at handling herself well in intense situations. 

 

“Kirby -” Fallon barely had time to open her mouth as the other woman pulled away.

 

“Sorry,” She breathed, her shoulders rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. “I just -”

 

“It’s okay,” Fallon insisted, shaking her head. It _had_ been, surprisingly, okay. She’d managed to avoid thinking about how everything had been making her feel - between Alice, and Michael, and whatever else seemed to pop up just when she was finally feeling in control - but this wasn’t something she’d let herself dwell on. 

 

“No,” Kirby began, “It isn’t, I shouldn’t -”

 

“ _Kirby_ ,” Fallon insisted, much more sternly. She reached out and placed one hand on her knee, watching her eyes drop to it before darting back up to her face. She wasn’t even sure what else to say. If she continued to insist that it was fine, they’d probably have to - _eugh -_ talk about it. 

 

Kirby seemed to get the picture, though, very slowly covering Fallon’s hand with her own and watching her - Fallon could tell she was waiting for a protest, giving her a chance to stop her before it started again - and then leaned in much more slowly to kiss her a second time. 

 

Ready for it, this time, Fallon let her hand on her thigh slide up to the other woman’s hip, anchoring them in their places to both keep her close, but not any closer.

 

She could already feel the blush rising up in her chest and neck, making its way to her cheeks. Kirby was insistent, all of her movements urgent as she tried to pull Fallon closer or deepen every kiss - it made her think of Alice, and a smug little bolt of lightning shot through her where guilt should have been. 

 

“Should we move?” Kirby asked as she pulled away, but before Fallon could answer, she’d dipped her head and started to kiss down her jaw. 

 

Fallon felt the grin tugging at her mouth, bringing her lip between her teeth and sighing before all the pleasantness was replaced by ice cold panic. 

 

She almost flung Kirby off of herself as she sat up, and she must have looked as flushed and disheveled as she felt because she watched the other woman’s face shift from concern to endearment as she took her in. 

 

“...Is that a no?” Kirby asked.

 

“Yes. I mean no. It’s a no.” Fallon felt herself blushing even harder but pushed past it, continuing, “It’s uh - not a good time.”

 

She could see Kirby already slipping back down, the high emotions giving way to what would likely be a lonely, depression-fueled trip to the liquor store before sitting in her apartment, alone. 

 

“Lets just… stay here,” she insisted, watching Kirby relax again, settling back into her own spot on the couch. “I’ll get us more wine.”

 

Leaving the actress alone on the couch, Fallon made her way into the kitchen and shook her head to herself. _Idiot. Dumb bitch._

 

She could have waited until after the awards to pursue this, which she still wasn’t even sure she wanted to. If she had to finally be entirely honest with herself, she’d admit that Kirby was… attractive. _Maybe_ . And _maybe_ working with her all of the time wasn’t _as_ terrible as pulling teeth. Maybe she was _a little_ used to their routine and how much of a staple it had become in her day-to-day life. 

 

But Kirby was already needy enough as it was. Even with a whole almost-girlfriend, or whatever Alice was to her, to keep her distracted, not to mention a nearly full-time campaign schedule, she was always underfoot, always five minutes away from a crisis, and always needing to be steered away from walking into metaphorical oncoming traffic. Fallon didn’t get around to dating as it was, with her career, and to have to turn her romantic life into a babysitting service sounded like another layer of hell altogether. 

 

“Hi.” Kirby’s voice directly behind her made her jump, nearly dropping the bottle of wine that she’d retrieved. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.” 

 

Turning around to face the actress, Fallon took a step back and then held the bottle out, but before she could answer, Kirby spoke again.

 

“You don’t have to hide out from me in here. I’m not going to jump you.”

 

She almost looked a little hurt, but she was clearly trying to keep her tone light, and a little sarcastic - a shield Fallon was all too familiar with. 

 

“I wasn’t - I was just getting some air.” Fallon heard herself stumbling over her words and mentally kicked herself. “We got a little bit ahead of ourselves, there.” 

 

“Yeah.” Kirby took the bottle, clearing her throat and then raising her eyebrows. “Momentary hysteria. Forget it. Can we go finish this, now?” She held the bottle up.

  
“Yeah.” Fallon felt a tiny little hint of relief tugging in her chest, but knew it would be short-lived. They’d still absolutely crossed a line that she hadn’t had any intention of crossing, but there _was_ only a month left in their campaign, after all.

 

* * *

“I’m probably late, now,” Kirby pointed out, hopping in place to pull her jeans back up her legs. 

 

“You’re fine, there’s still another four minutes.” Fallon checked her phone, then locked the screen to fix her hair in the black reflection.

 

“Four minutes I could have _used_ ,” Kirby insisted, smirking as she stepped forward and pulled Fallon closer to her, both of her hands suddenly creeping up the back of her skirt. “If you weren’t so -”

 

Huffing out a weak protest, Fallon slapped her hands away softly and stepped back, readjusting her skirt and trying to get her blushing back under control. 

 

“Behave.” 

 

She had meant it as a serious warning - they had a job to do - but it just made Kirby laugh, reaching up and tucking a piece of Fallon’s hair behind her ear before reaching around her for the door.

 

“It’s been two weeks. It’s like you don’t even know me,” Kirby scoffed, tugging the door out and gently pressing one hand to Fallon’s lower back in suggestion for her to step out.

 

“I know enough,” Fallon pointed out, leading them both back towards the conference room, but stopping her in the doorway. “Okay. Break a leg.”

 

Holding the door open for her, Fallon watched as Kirby ducked under her arm and made her way inside, striding back over to the chairs and camera setup on the opposite wall, not even taking a moment to look back.

 

* * *

 

 

**ONE WEEK EARLIER**

 

“This has to be a sick joke.” Kirby’s voice shook as she spoke, causing Fallon to glance up across the table. 

 

Taking a meeting over dinner wasn’t their usual way of doing things, but her days had been so packed as of late that she barely had a chance to actually see Kirby in person instead of just working in the background on her behalf. 

 

“What does? Let me see.” Fallon leaned across the table and reached for the other woman’s phone, but she held it back, reading aloud instead.

 

“‘Pop singer Alice Alby has just checked out from Swiss addiction rehabilitation center, _Paracelsus_ , after a brief 3-day detox treatment over the weekend. Two shows had been cancelled and rescheduled to arrange.’” Kirby’s eyes darted around the screen, even as Fallon spoke.

 

“Is that surprising?” She asked, reaching for her water. “They’re pretty drug-friendly over there. I figured that was why she added it to the tour.”

 

Kirby shot her a cold look before continuing to read.

 

“‘Alice’s public relations team, headed by _Jeff Colby_ of Visight, were unavailable for comment.’”

 

Fallon choked on her water, sputtering into the glass and then hitting herself in the chest to try to relieve the pressure.

 

“ _What?”_ She snatched the phone out of Kirby’s hand before she could stop her this time. “This _has_ to be a misprint. Visight doesn’t even _handle_ PR.”

 

“He _was_ being _weirdly_ supportive of Kori when we were at the Hamptons Festival,” Kirby mused, stirring her straw around in her own drink. “Maybe he knew he’d be making the switch.”

 

“And what?” Fallon tried to keep her volume and tone in check. “They’re just expanding to PR and taking _our_ staff with them?”

 

“It’s just Jeff.” 

 

“Yeah, but who knows who he’s taking with him?” Fallon could feel the hysteria bubbling up inside of her, and tried to keep her hands from shaking as she dropped Kirby’s phone unceremoniously to the table and pulled out her own. “I have to call my dad.”

 

Getting up from the table and leaving Kirby alone, Fallon made her way out of the restaurant and into the waiting area, desperate for a moment of peace and quiet to figure out her next move.

 

Blake didn’t pick up - though Fallon realized on the second ring that she didn’t even expect him to. It was _so_ like Jeff to have timed this perfectly to make sure no one would be around while he executed the plan. 

 

She phoned Monica, next, to no answer, and then finally tried Jeff.

 

He picked up on the first ring, which startled her, but within a few words, he managed to have her blood boiling, bringing white-hot focus back to her.

 

“Hey, Fallon.” 

 

He sounded _so_ cool and collected. She could picture the smirk on his face, and then pictured herself slapping it off of him to keep calm. 

 

“Please tell me this is all a joke. Even you wouldn’t stoop this low.” 

 

Jeff hummed.

 

“Not sure I know what you’re talking about,” he said.

 

“ _Visight?_ Really?” Fallon lowered her voice as a couple made their way inside, giving her an odd look as they passed her and headed into the restaurant. “Blake’s going to kill you when he gets back. Especially if you try to take any of ours with you.”

 

“Well, technically it’s not poaching if Kori’s the one who wants to make the calls. She’s not in PR, after all.” 

 

Fallon closed her eyes, balling her free hand up into a fist at her side before letting out a small, humorless laugh. 

 

“Good luck, then.”

 

“You too, Fallon.”

 

Resisting the urge to throw her phone to the ground as she hung up, Fallon took a few calming breaths and made her way back inside to Kirby.

 

“Let's get out of here,” she insisted, surprising the redhead. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

 

“Well, maybe I am,” Kirby pointed out.

 

“Then we’ll handle it.” Fallon reached for her and gently wrapped one hand around her wrist, tugging at it in suggestion until she stood up.

 

* * *

 

 

“That was a nightmare.” Kirby made her way into the hotel bar and made herself comfortable on the seat next to the one that Fallon was perched on. “Can I have my flask back?”

 

“We’re literally in a bar. You can have it when we get back in the car.”

 

 _“Hi,”_ came a voice from behind them, causing both women to simultaneously turn around. “Are you Kirby Anders?”

 

A bright eyed blonde woman stood before them, clutching her phone excitedly. 

 

“Yeah,” Kirby sighed, and Fallon could see her fighting to maintain her ‘fan encounter’ friendliness despite how obviously tired she was from the day. “But we’re sort of in a meeting, so I just -”

 

“Is it true that you and Alice Alby have been partying together? What do you think about the recent news about her rehabilitation stint?” 

 

Fallon’s eyes widened as she listened to the woman talk, the realization that she didn’t just want an autograph or photo hitting Kirby much harder. 

 

“Who are you with?” Fallon asked, before Kirby could form a sentence, gaping uselessly. “Actually, I don’t care. Just go away. We’re busy.”

 

 _“Popnosis,”_ the woman replied, all of the friendliness from earlier suddenly becoming to clearly ingenuine. “And really, I’m not asking much.”

 

Fallon’s eyes locked on her phone, realizing now that she was filming, not expecting a photo. 

 

“Sorry. My client isn’t responsible for your story about someone else. Alice Alby is represented by Visight. You can go harass them for a statement instead.” Fallon lifted one hand and shooed the woman away, forcefully taking Kirby’s arm and turning her to face the bar again as the bartender repeated the request for her to leave.

 

Kirby looked visibly shaken, so Fallon ordered them a round.

 

“What’s _next_ , today?” The redhead asked, reaching for her drink without so much as a ‘thank you’.

 

“That’s all. I’ll take you home and pick you back up at nine tomorrow.” 

 

“Why don’t we make it eight?” Kirby suggested. “I’m out of groceries, anyway. We’ll stop for breakfast.”

 

Fallon watched her suspiciously, narrowing her eyes a little.

 

“Sure.”

 

“It’s a date,” Kirby confirmed.

 

“No, it isn’t,” Fallon insisted, taking a sip of her own drink as it was handed to her, but Kirby just rolled her eyes in response, chuckling.

 

“It’s a figure of speech.”

 

“Mhm.” Fallon watched her for another moment before letting it drop and pulling her phone out once more. “Lets go over tomorrow’s itinerary.”

 

 

 

 

“You’re sure you can’t come with me?” Kirby sat up on the hotel bed and watched as Fallon stood up, doing up the buttons of her blouse in a slow, concentrated fashion.

 

“Nope.” Fallon popped the ‘p’ on the end of her word, glancing up for a moment at Kirby and catching her eye. “Alice didn’t want to come?”

 

“I wasn’t going to bring her, anyway,” Kirby all but snapped back. She’d only seen Alice once since she’d been back from her tour, but it had been in a group - they hadn’t spoken outside of stilted text messages since. “It’s supposed to be  _ my _ night.”

 

“So why would you want  _ me _ there?” Fallon asked, and the tiny little smirk on her lips made Kirby smile back in spite of herself.

 

“What if I don’t get it?” Kirby asked in response, instead of answering. The words fell out of her before she could stop them.

 

Fallon made her way back toward the bed, leaning over and chuckling when Kirby’s eyes dropped from her own to glance down her shirt momentarily. 

 

“Then we professionally part ways.”

 

Sitting up, the redhead caught Fallon’s lips with her own and cupped her chin gently, pulling back to look at her more seriously.

 

“And then what?”

 

“And then you get back to work.”

 

Chuckling, Kirby let her go and watched as she made her way to the mirror to fix her hair and try to shake away the visual evidence of what they’d been doing.

 

“My poor manager. She’s going to be so overwhelmed after this,” Kirby mused.

 

Fallon snorted.

 

“Tough luck, I guess. Must be hard being successful and having a massive breakthrough in your career.”

 

“Don’t be cruel, Fallon.” Kirby rolled her eyes and then swung her legs over the bed, reaching for her skirt and then stepping into it.

 

“I’m not!” Fallon laughed, glancing at her before turning her attention back to her reflection. “I just don’t feel that sympathetic. Sorry.”

 

“I wish I was surprised,” Kirby replied, ignoring the look that Fallon tried to shoot her, heading towards the bathroom to fix her own hair, instead. 

 

“Don’t forget to let me know which dress you’re going with,” Fallon called, before Kirby heard the hotel door swing open and click shut. 

 

Booking out the room had made the whole thing feel especially skeezy, but with Fallon acting like her condo was a restricted access zone, and Kirby not exactly having the accommodations the other woman was used to, their  _ situation  _ had been reduced to coat closets, back seats, and the  _ occasional  _ hotel bed if they decided to treat themselves. 

 

She left shortly after Fallon did, not wanting to hang out alone in the room. With the Academy Awards that week, Kirby was surprised that she’d even gotten a moment alone with Fallon, and tried not to be too ungrateful for the circumstances. With her beauty team running makeup tests, stylists bringing in options from every company that Fallon had received offers from, and her manager desperately trying to keep her in the loop on all of the offers that they’d been receiving, she was beginning to feel permanently exhausted - but the distractions were all welcome. 

 

As she made her way out of the hotel and onto the street, she lit a cigarette and immediately put on her sunglasses. The overcast sky was pleasantly cooling as she pulled her phone out, shooting Alice yet another text. 

 

_ ‘Thinking about you. Call me when you’re free.’ _

 

The text thread was only messages from Kirby to Alice, none of which had been responded to for quite a while. It was almost embarrassing to look at, but partially reassuring. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about Fallon - not when the effort with Alice was so obviously one-sided. 

 

Kirby from a month prior would have been humiliated, but somewhere between the nomination, the sudden uptick in positive attention, and having Fallon around for distraction, she’d grown a little more confident. She could see it in her reflection in the morning and hear it in her voice when she interviewed. She couldn’t believe she’d ever been nervous about the direction that her career was headed in.

 

Her car pulled up just as a couple of young women looked like they were going to approach her from her peripherals, whispering to themselves as if trying to decide if she really was who they thought she was - but she simply shot them a small smile and climbed into the black car that was idling at the curb.

 

She fiddled reflexively with her phone during the drive - another nice thing about the campaign ending would be having access to her social media again. She’d never considered herself addicted until she could no longer scroll absently through Instagram or Twitter during moments of boredom.

 

It was exciting to think that she had a chance to take an Oscar home, but even more exciting was the future on the horizon. She hadn’t gone over any of the offers she’d received yet, wanting to focus on the last stretch of the awards before diving back into it. Picturing the box of script excerpts that were waiting for her back at her manager’s office made her feel giddy. Imagining herself as  _ established _ \- already - was a trip in itself. 

 

What was more, maybe it would be time to start looking at a better condo. The idea of something  _ new  _ that was all hers was exciting.

 

Maybe she’d ask Fallon out.

 

Their last few encounters had seemed a little stilted, it not almost cold - but when they were working,  _ really  _ working, it felt familiar. She couldn’t exactly picture what kind of a girlfriend Fallon would be, if she would even  _ have _ her - but with their professional relationship coming to an end, as Fallon had put it, she was willing to try it out. Los Angeles was a big city. She could vanish into it and avoid Fallon for the rest of her life if she  _ really  _ had to. 

 

Her car took a sharp turn toward her neighbourhood, and she caught sight of a billboard looming over them.

 

Alice, unlike Fallon - who preferred her anonymity and privacy - was much harder to avoid. 

 

Her face, recolored with in neon palette and posed perfectly as if she were mid-belt, was unavoidable as they drove by, drawing Kirby’s eye in no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. 

 

She considered stopping by her place, but chances were that she’d run into one of Alice’s more annoying friends rather than the singer herself, and it didn’t seem worth it. 

 

Her apartment welcomed her with the sight of the drink she hadn’t finished before she’d left that morning sitting on the counter and the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ screen on her television.  Looking around, she remembered how comfortable Alice had been in her place, even with her own giant penthouse waiting for her. Nothing like the general disgust that Fallon seemed to regard everything with.  It bothered her to realize that her brain sent her messages of ‘so, move to a new place’ where ‘screw her’ should have been.

 

Grabbing her half-finished drink from the counter and situating herself back on the couch to finish her Netflix marathon, Kirby switched her phone off, laid back, and settled in for a few hours of distraction.

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up with her alarm wasn’t a good sign - lately Kirby had been pretty good at being up just before the annoying buzzing filled her room - but she was startled out of her deep, dreamless sleep by her phone. 

She barely had sat up in her bed before there was a knock at her front door, and she tiredly made her way over to check through the peephole worriedly. She wasn’t expecting to be picked up for another hour, and wasn’t expecting anyone else. For a brief, hopeful moment she wondered if it would be Fallon, but opening the door only revealed a delivery man.

“Good morning?” She greeted tiredly, watching him dig around in his cart before handing her a giant vase of flowers.

“Kirby Anders?”

_ As if you didn’t know _ , her brain unhelpfully supplied.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“These are for you.” 

She could hardly see him around the arrangement, but took it in both arms and turned to set it on the inside counter before turning back to him. 

He handed her two more boxes, and a clipboard to sign, before vanishing back down the hallway.

One box was her jewelry package - she knew immediately based on the weight - and she groaned in frustration as she tucked it into her bag by the door. It was  _ supposed  _ to go to her styling team - none of these tiny issues were making her feel very confident about the night ahead.

She turned her attention to the flowers, next, plucking the card from the middle and flipping it open excitedly.

_ ‘Good luck tonight! - Phenom Management’ _

Hm. Less exciting than she’d hoped.

Setting the vase aside and turning her attention to the last box, Kirby rolled it around between her fingers for a moment before sliding the paper off and removing the lid.

Inside was a simple note card, with familiar, scrawling handwriting:

_ ‘User: kirbyanders Pass:’ --   _

Realizing that it was her social media login credentials, she flipped the box over to look for a sign that it was from Fallon, when something dropped from the box and onto the floor at her feet. Frowning, and leaning down to pick it up, Kirby flipped what she now realized was a key fob over and scanned the little paper hanging from its chain.

_ ‘Yours for the week. Take a break. - Fallon’ _

A car rental. It made Kirby laugh outright at the absurdity of the gift, but it was somehow still so personal. After all, she wouldn’t have Fallon to drive her around, anymore. Maybe she could consider it a test drive to buy herself something.

Checking the time again and realizing that her car would be arriving any minute, Kirby tucked the keys into her bag and quickly rushed to get dressed before darting out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Being led down a carpet - her  _ first  _ carpet, Kirby continued to remind herself, trying to remember to slow down and soak up every moment that she could - with the flashing lights and hearing her name being yelled from every direction reminded her more of Fallon than anything else had that evening. 

It was hard not to think of the other woman, even from a professional standpoint, when she perfectly recited every soundbite and dialogue line she’d been trained on for the last few weeks. 

I’m just excited to be here. I’m really proud of what we’ve made and I’m glad that other people seem to enjoy it. It’s an  _ honour  _ just to be nominated alongside so much talent. 

It felt more authentic than it usually did, though. She  _ was  _ excited just to be there. It was like all of the glamour that she’d grown up being told  _ was  _ Hollywood pulled together at once. She was surrounded by actors she’d never seen in real life, the surreality of all of it crashing down on her at once in one giant wave of giddiness. Her grin was real every time someone complimented her, or  _ Splintered Men _ , or any of her coworkers. 

Every speech she listened to made her have to pause during the applause and give herself a reality check. She was actually there. 

Glancing sideways at Will, she watched as his gaze dropped from watching the stage interestedly to his phone tucked beneath the edge of the table. She knew he’d attended before, but she couldn’t believe that his single year of experience was enough to ruin all of the magic. She  _ had  _ meant what she’d said about feeling excited just to be nominated. 

The night before, parting ways with Fallon after one last pep talk over drinks, she’d leaned over to kiss her goodnight, only to be stopped.

_ “I’m serious,”  _ Fallon had told her. _ “The nomination was enough. Keep your head on straight tomorrow.” _

Kirby had joked at the time that it sounded like she was expecting her to lose; setting her up for failure, but Fallon had just shrugged.

_ “I know you. I know what that kind of pressure cracking can do to you.” _

She didn’t feel the pressure. She’d be fine if they walked up onto that stage and didn’t call her name - she had made it this far, anyway.

When Fallon had finally relented on the deeply concerned act the night before and finally kissed her before they parted ways, it reminded Kirby that there wasn’t a scenario where she lost. She would win her Oscar, or she would move on with her career and no longer have the ‘professional expectations’ in place that forced her and the publicist to sneak around. 

“You’re up,” Will nudged her from the side and she glanced at him. “Smile at me. Look distracted.”

She did, reflexively, her eyes darting aside to notice one of the B-cameras swivelling to face their table before she leaned in closer as if engaged in some private conversation with him that was much more important to her than the fate of her award about to be announced. 

“ _ The nominees for Best Actress in a leading role are....”  _

She immediately heard her own voice and glanced up as the screen before them filled with her face. She felt like she looked so much younger, and then wondered if Fallon was watching at home.

_ “Kirby Anders, _ Splintered Men.” 

The applause was deafening and she was immediately thankful that her makeup artist for the evening had convinced her to do a full-coverage foundation routine. She could barely sit still as she waited for the camera to leave her - it felt like an eternity before the next name was announced, but the moment that it was, she felt a tightness in her chest. 

  
Was the next clip better? Was her clip really the best that they could find to showcase? Was  _ that  _ what the board had been paying attention to when they chose her - was that what they’d been comparing to the next actress when they decided which of them  _ deserved  _ to get that award? 

 

* * *

 

 

**TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER**

“Wow.” 

Kirby whirled around, nearly tripping on the hem of her dress to see Fallon leaning against the doorway of the studio. 

She felt like a teenager on prom night, suddenly, fidgeting with the material at her waist and clearing her throat before meeting the brunette’s eye again.

“It’s nice.” Fallon mercifully spoke again, stepping a little bit closer as Kirby adjusted the straps of her dress at her shoulders. She pulled herself up to her full height, even though the brunette was below her already on the ground while she stood on a small pedestal, but something about the other woman always made her feel smaller. 

“Two hundred fittings later,” Kirby complained. 

“Oh, you poor thing.” Fallon tsked softly and stepped even closer, one eyebrow raising in amusement. “Lemme see. Turn.”

She made a twirling gesture with one finger and Kirby hiked the bottom of the skirt up carefully to twist around, glancing back over her shoulder as if waiting for approval before even completing the turn. 

“You clean up well,” Fallon hummed.

“Wow, thanks,” Kirby snorted, then stepped down from the pedestal, reaching behind herself to unzip the top of the dress. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“I thought we could have one last powwow before D-day.” 

“That’s disappointing,” Kirby mused out loud, jumping a little when she felt Fallon’s hands brush her own away from the zipper that she was struggling with, undoing it for her instead. “I thought you were coming to support me being stuffed into this thing.”

“Is wanting to check in on you before the awards not supportive?” Fallon asked, one hand drifting up the middle of her back before leaving her completely. The gesture was starkly tender compared to the all-business tone in her voice.  “I’ll wait outside. We can talk in the car.”

 

* * *

 

 

She hadn’t even realized that she’d lost until she felt Will’s hand squeezing her leg reassuringly. 

“Clap.” His voice was stern near her ear, startling her into the action, feeling a numbness spread from her palms up her arms towards her chest. 

Anger washed over her next - not at the Academy, but at Fallon, and how painfully right she’d been. She felt the snap, physically, the pre-spiral nerves settling in over her in a way that she was becoming increasingly too used to these days. 

Her phone buzzed in her lap and her eyes darted down to see it, trying not to seem too disinterested in the speech taking place on the stage before her from the woman who had bested her.

It was a Twitter notification from the official page of the Academy,  simply reminding their followers about who had been nominated and alerting them to who had won. 

She had almost expected something along the lines of a ‘ _ tough luck _ ’ text from Fallon, but she swallowed her pride and pulled Fallon’s name up to text her, first.

_ ‘Hey, call me.’ _

It was simple enough and she hoped it would come off as casual, maybe even a little disappointed. She didn’t need to have Fallon rushing over, thinking she was going to have some sort of a breakdown, or worse still, having her disregard her as a problem that she didn’t have the energy for that evening. 

“The good news is that no one will hate you at the after-party,” Will told her, patting her leg one last time before tucking himself into his own seat. 

“I’m not upset,” Kirby insisted, but she knew that it was a lie as soon as she said the words. The high she’d been riding just moments before the announcement was gone, and she felt frighteningly, shakily sober now. “A party sounds good, though. I’m honestly relieved that I can actually relax, now.”

Will narrowed his eyes but smiled at her - she knew the look, it was one she’d received from Fallon more than once - pity, mixed with a hint of ‘sure, I  _ totally  _ believe you’. 

She barely paid attention to the rest of the awards - it was hard to get to her feet when her old director, sitting to her right, pulled her arm to follow the rest of the cast to the stage with him. All of the lights and loud music and crowd noise was now balancing on the edge of overwhelming. The glamour seemed like one giant theater act, with everyone exaggerating their movements and lines, taking themselves too seriously. 

Was that what she’d looked like on the carpet? Did anyone else even care?

Closing her eyes as she made her way off of the stage, she pictured her apartment. Usually a source of comfort despite how humble it was, picturing it now, she just felt like she’d be as out of place in it as Fallon usually looked, given the gown she wore. But it was  _ her  _ apartment. The dress she wore wasn’t hers - it wasn’t  _ her -  _ or maybe the apartment wasn’t, anymore. 

The idea of the small one-bedroom made her feel like she was suffocating. She didn’t wait for the rest of her party as she made her way outside onto the street for air, ignoring the flash of the cameras nearby and people begging for her attention from all sides. All but falling into the limo, she lit a cigarette and immediately instructed the driver to move.

Home didn’t feel like home, so she texted Fallon once more.

_ ‘Seriously, call me.’ _

Almost as soon as the message sent, she decided to phone herself, growling in frustration as after several rings, she was sent to the other woman’s voice mail inbox.

Cameras flashed outside of the car windows, reminding Kirby that she couldn’t roll them down, and the mix of smoke and her own anxiety seemed to fill the car to the point of choking her. 

She needed air. She just wanted to take a minute to breathe in fresh air, but the entire ground of the city was writhing with activity, lit up by the center hub of glamour that she’d just sped away from.

Reaching over to the window control panel, she opened the sun roof, and stared up at the starless sky through the gap for a moment, letting the smoke coil up from the end of her cigarette and escape the confined space of the back seat. Deciding that her game plan would be to do a lap before deciding if she would head home in defeat or if she felt good enough to attempt to schmooze at the after party, her eye caught sight of the corner of the building that Alice’s penthouse topped. The idea of her giant, empty apartment, on top of the whole city where no one could reach her - could reach  _ them  _ \- she suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

Tugging her phone out, she pulled Alice’s name up on her screen and ignored her sudden embarrassment at the reminder that her last several attempts to reach out had been ignored.

_ ‘Hey, you home? I don’t want to be alone.’ _

Alice answered her almost instantly, and she felt her eyes well up in gratitude.

_ [11:11PM] Alice: i’m home! are you nearby? come on up i’m literally dying of boredom here. _

Giving her driver the new directions, Kirby settled back into her seat and sagged into it in relief.

_ ‘I’m super close, I’ll be right up.’ _

She nearly ran from the still-rolling limo on the curb to the door, startling the doorman, who seemed to finally recognize her easily enough to let her in. 

Alice was in the kitchen when Kirby made her way inside, gingerly stepping out of the elevator and into the empty apartment. 

“Hey, babe, gimme one second!” The singer called from the other room, followed by the sound of a bottle being popped open. She rounded the corner a moment later and stopped in her tracks. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up.”

Kirby glanced down at herself and realized she was still in the gown.

“I didn’t - I -”

“Oh  _ shit!”  _ Alice made her way over and held out a tumbler glass for Kirby to grab. “I forgot all about the Oscars tonight.  _ Shit,  _ I was going to watch too.”

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, before Alice seemed to realize the implications of Kirby being there.

“Oh… I’m really sorry.” She reached out and took Kirby’s free hand in her own, suddenly pulling her closer. Shifting her glass to make sure she didn’t spill, Kirby let the other woman collapse into her in a hug, gingerly slipping her free arm around her waist. It had been a long time - it didn’t feel familiar anymore.

“It’s - I’m okay.”

“That stuff is rigged, anyway.” Alice waved a hand dismissively as she let her go. “Too political. Here. We’ll drink about it and hang out and you’ll feel better. You get comfy, I’ll get the rest of this.” 

She tapped the glass in Kirby’s hand and turned to head back into the kitchen, leaving Kirby to let herself out onto the patio. The crowded streets below were much quieter from so high up, and she could hear the wind whipping around the patio more clearly than any of the voices below. 

“How come you aren’t busy all night?” Alice asked as she followed Kirby outside a moment later. The pair of them made their way to the lounge chairs by the pool, and Alice made herself comfortable at the end of Kirby’s seat instead of on her own.

“I didn’t really feel like doing the after party thing,” Kirby admitted, watching as Alice reached out and undid her uncomfortable strappy heels for her, tossing them aside and then pulling the redhead’s legs into her lap. It was a routine from back when they had been partying together all of the time, and it always made her feel looked after, no matter how ridiculous the evening became. 

“We can have our own after party,” Alice suggested, clinking her glass against Kirby’s and then reaching around in her sweater pocket before tugging out a worn zipped bag and shaking it enticingly. “It’s just us, here. I’ve been basically put on house arrest.”

“What did you do?” Kirby frowned, sitting up straighter. 

Alice shook the bag again in answer.

“Relax,” she insisted, watching Kirby’s face. “It’s peyote. It’s basically like… spiritually and morally  _ right  _ to do it at least once in your life. You get to learn so much about yourself.”

“I think I know enough,” Kirby hummed, already feeling a little more relaxed. The irritation about the whole charade was finally setting in - the months of effort and work that she’d put in, only to walk away without the recognition - she knew the nomination itself was still helpful, but she couldn’t help but feel cheated.

Alice shook her head.

“You can never know yourself  _ too  _ well. C’mon.” 

Before Kirby could stop her, she dug into the bag and pulled out a couple of button-sized pieces, and tossed them into her mouth, chewing with a grimace. The expression was silly enough to make Kirby snort, looking away, but Alice caught it, finishing the mouthful and grinning.

“You’re smiling.” 

“Alice,” Kirby started to protest, leaning away a little when Alice reached for her.

“What? You just wanted to come over here to pout?” Alice shook her leg gently. 

“I just said that I didn’t want to be alone,” Kirby reminded her, sipping her drink. 

“Friends don’t let friends wallow in their depression.” Alice chirped, squeezing her knee once before holding the bag out again. “Have I ever led you astray?”

She’d meant it as a bit of a joke, but Kirby immediately remembered Fallon. Before she could let her mind confuse her any further, she remembered that Fallon wasn’t taking her calls, either. 

“You know what?” Kirby snatched the bag up and dug into it. “You’re right. Besides, it’s not like Fallon’s going to come running in on us and try to nag me about this again.”

“To your freedom!” Alice cheered, sloshing her glass against Kirby’s and laughing when both of their hands were coated in liquor. “Ooh, honey, you’re gonna want to take at least four or five of those.” 

She nodded to the caps in Kirby’s hand, and then stood up. 

“And I find that its a much smoother trip-in with a bit of weed. You want some?” Alice made her way toward the door, smiling back at Kirby over her shoulder. 

“Yes.” Kirby sat up straighter. “You’re the expert - didn’t you just get out of a rehab stint? I thought you’d have an ankle monitor or something.”

Alice laughed from the kitchen all the way back out to Kirby, holding out her stash box expectantly.

“Ankle monitors are for when you have a  _ serious problem _ . I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she insisted. “I was out with some dickheads from Lewd’s team and they decided to pass around a bunch of horse while we were still on camera. It was rehab or possession. Easier on my reputation to go the sympathy route - at least that’s what Jeff said.”

Right. Jeff. 

Kirby had the sudden urge to ask Fallon how that had turned out - before remembering  _ again  _ that she wasn’t answering. Getting rid of the  _ call Fallon and ask about…  _ urge was going to take a while to kick.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re fine.” Kirby realized it had been a moment since she’d said anything, and graciously accepted the joint that Alice handed her.

“Trust me, I’m not into all of that heavy shit.”

Kirby thought about their first meeting and the ecstasy. 

“What does  _ all of that heavy shit  _ entail, exactly?”

Alice considered her question for a moment, as Kirby lit the joint.

“... Heroin, I guess? Oxy?”

Coughing a little and sputtering smoke out between them, Kirby handed the joint back to Alice and then settled in on the chair. 

“That’s a pretty low bar, Alice.” 

Alice waved a hand dismissively, and Kirby thought again about what Fallon had said about them enabling one another. Not that it mattered, anymore, since they’d apparently cut all ties.

“I’m gonna put some music on and see if I can’t get this trip started,” Alice hummed, hopping up from the chair after handing the joint back to Kirby. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk, or whatever, if you’re still bummed out about losing.”

Ignoring her blunt phrasing, Kirby craned her head to watch the other woman head inside, continuing to chew more pieces from the bag as she went.

“How long does it usually take?” She asked, but Alice had already shut the door behind her. 

Laying back and staring up at the light-polluted sky, Kirby crossed her arms around her torso and fiddled with the luxurious material beneath her fingers. She considered changing outfits before anything got out of hand, but the idea that the campaign was over as soon as she finally took off the dress suddenly pushed at her mind from all sides. 

She reeled over the last month, trying to see if she could pinpoint the moment when things had taken a turn for the worse.

Maybe Fallon had been right about Alice and her effect on her reputation, after all. Or, maybe Fallon was a sociopath who had manipulated her from the start and couldn’t be trusted. 

The way that the other woman had recoiled when she’d kissed her before returning for more used to play over and over in her mind when she was alone. It always represented the other woman finally breaking down and admitting that what they had was mutual, to her. Now, it read like understanding. While Kirby knew nothing about Fallon, it felt like the woman knew everything about her. 

_ ‘I know you, and I know what you need _ ’ was like some sort of mantra for the other woman. At first it was comforting; always sounding like a reassurance that Fallon would do what was best for her, but now she understood that it was just Fallon stating a fact. I know you, and I know exactly how to program you into doing what I need you to do.

Thinking that Fallon had only been with her that way to keep her complacent made her feel suddenly sick. Urgently sick. She hauled herself up from her chair and promptly collapsed next to a nearby empty planter just as Alice made her way back out, laughing a little. 

“Here, let me get you some water. It’s okay,” she suddenly appeared behind Kirby, ducking down beside her as she heaved into the ceramic, and rubbed her back slowly. “It’ll make it set in quicker, anyway. At least I think so.”

Kirby winced and pulled herself up, reaching for the water and chugging from the bottle as Alice spoke.

“And maybe take it easy, it makes you have to pe-”

Feeling the very serious urge to run to the bathroom, Kirby nearly shoved Alice out of the way and ran inside, making her way into the bathroom and nearly ripping the dress off in her rush. 

All of it made her think of the first time she’d hung out with Alice - her own inexperience and embarrassment, followed by the singer taking such calm, genuine care of her throughout the evening. The thought - or the peyote - filled her whole body with warmth, and she felt considerably better as she returned to Alice - who had moved into the living room in her absence. 

“Your phone was ringing,” Alice told her, smiling from where she was sprawled out in the pit of cushions that centered the room.

“Fallon?” Kirby asked, making her way over and reaching for it.

Alice shook her head, one eyebrow raising. 

“Nope. Will…?”

“Oh.” Kirby sighed defeatedly and then tossed herself into a pile of cushions, bouncing the other woman with a laugh. She had no interest in talking to anyone else from her cast or crew, at least not right then. 

“What’s the deal with you two, anyway?” Alice asked, reaching out with one hand and dragging her nails back and forth across Kirby’s ankle in a slow, lazy trail.

“Will?” Kirby frowned.

_ “Fallon.”  _ Alice sighed. “Obviously.”

“There’s no deal,” Kirby huffed. “We don’t even work together, anymore. Not as of today.”

“Good, I hate her,” Alice sighed, her words candid but her tone airy and light. “The last thing I need when I’m tripping out is having her phoning you every twenty seconds to nag you about… whatever it is she usually nags you about.”

Kirby felt the defensive little rise in her stomach, and squashed it down. Not her problem - not anymore.

“Then,” Kirby reached for her glass and stretched to reach Alice’s. “To this whole thing being fucking over. Finally.”

Alice laughed and then sat up, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

“I’m glad you called. And I’m proud of you either way.”

“Thank you,” Kirby sat up a little, too, propping herself up on her elbows and smiling - the first genuine smile of the evening since she’d arrived. “And thank you for letting me come over.”

“Of course, I love having you here.” Alice reached around behind the cushions to pull the bottle out, topping both of their glasses up. “You feeling anything yet?”

“Warm,” Kirby admitted, and then clarified:  “ _ Good _ warm. You?”

“ _ So  _ good.” Alice smiled, sniffing once and then wiping the corner of her eye when a single tear prickled up. “Whoa. Sorry.” 

She held a hand up when Kirby leaned closer in concern, waving her off. “It’s okay. It’s normal - emotions running super high and everything. That’s why I’m glad you’re here, I’m  _ so  _ tired of being alone in here by myself all the time.”

Picturing Alice all alone in her penthouse, lonely, made Kirby’s own eyes well up, until the other woman burst into laughter. 

“We’re a mess. It means it’s working, though,” she assured her, leaning over and kissing her so suddenly that Kirby nearly lost her balance. “Sorry. Is that okay?”

Convinced that  _ kissing _ was the greatest concept she’d ever discovered, Kirby nodded quickly and kissed her back, this time, laughing into it when Alice’s hands made their way around her waist, toppling them both back onto the cushions.

“C’mon,” Alice suggested, pushing herself up to hover over the other woman. “I have some fucked up art for us to look at.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How long was I out?” Alice groaned, rolling onto her side and stretching out, blindly reaching for her drink and phone simultaneously.

“About twenty minutes.” Kirby looked down at her and smiled a little, pushing her hair back off of her face for her. How had she known how long it had been? She’d been so unfocused and out of it that it felt like she was dreaming.

“Eugh, my head is pounding.” Alice sat upright and frowned, chuckling in spite of herself when Kirby tried not to laugh at her disheveled appearance. “I think we’re out of booze. Ugh, I wish that stupid app worked this late.”

“We could take the limo,” Kirby suggested, but Alice shook her head.

“Nah, that’d be a little obvious.” Rubbing her head, she drained the last of her glass and tossed it aside. 

Kirby glanced at her own empty glass - drained during the time she had been waiting for Alice to wake up - and then nearly leapt to her feet on the cushions.

“I have a car!” She announced.

Alice laughed. 

“You’re also high on peyote.” 

Kirby waved a hand. “It’s a lucid drug. I was Googling while you were passed out. Besides, the liquor store is down the street. No one will even see us.”

Alice closed her eyes.

“You’re in a gown. Maybe we should call it a night.”

“Five minutes to Uber to my car, then five minutes to the liquor store, then five minutes shopping. In and out,” Kirby suggested, panic firing through her arms and legs suddenly at the idea of Alice falling back asleep and leaving her alone again - or worse, going back to her empty apartment. 

“Okay,” Alice relented, getting to her feet as well and shakily climbing out of the pile of cushions that had both been curled up in.

Kirby cleaned up her smudging makeup in the bathroom before they departed, loading up her phone and typing in the address of the rental lot. She knew perfectly well that it wasn’t going to be a fifteen minute trip, especially not with all of the traffic from the night’s events, but Alice had agreed, and she felt fine.

She lit a cigarette the moment that she got out of the ride share car, Alice following behind her and squinting around as she tried to track down the car that matched the keys Fallon had sent her. The numbers on the walls blurred together, as did the lines separating the cars, but there, at the end of the lot, crystal clear and standing out from all of the other vehicles around it, was Fallon’s car. 

Rather, it was the same make and model, the same bright gleam of red that stood out from its surroundings no matter how dim the lighting was. 

“Is that it?” Alice made her way closer, following Kirby’s gaze as she stood in front of it.

“I think so.” Kirby double-checked the numbers, knowing that there was no way the car in front of her wasn’t the one Fallon had intended, and then unlocked the doors as she drew closer.

Alice hopped in first.

“Are you allowed to smoke in a rental?” She asked as Kirby got into the driver’s seat.

She looked at her own cigarette, and then shrugged.

“Whatever. Buckle up.”

 

* * *

 

 

“HOLY SHIT.” Kirby slammed on the brakes, her eyes suddenly focusing on the road in front of her, causing Alice to jolt in her seat and groan as she rubbed her neck and shoulder.

“What the fuck, Kirby?”

The redhead looked around at herself, then in all of the mirrors before turning to Alice, trying to find the words to express what was going on, watching the singer’s face morph from terrified amazement to concern as she realized it, too.

“Did you just black out? Jesus, how long were you out for? We were  _ literally  _ having a conversation.”

“Maybe you should drive,” Kirby suggested, glancing around at the empty road and then pulling over to the shoulder. “How’d we even get here?”

Alice shrugged.

“You wanted to listen to music and drive for a bit after we picked up the booze. You seemed sort of bummed out so I said sure and then you drove us out to serial-killer-no-where and talked for awhile… and then gave me whiplash.”

“I’m really sorry,” Kirby winced, reaching for her seatbelt, but Alice covered her hand.

“I can’t drive. But we can just stay here, for a bit. It’s a nice view, anyway.”

Kirby looked out the windshield at the view from the dropoff that she’d pulled over to, and then turned off the motor. Alice always had a plan - always had something to save the way with. 

“That’s a good idea. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Alice insisted, undoing her own seatbelt and then opening the door. She rooted around in the back seat, tugging two wine bottles from a box in the back, and then came around to Kirby’s side to hand her one. 

The pair of them sat on the trunk, and then laid back to stare upwards. The light pollution wasn’t quite as terrible as it was right in the middle of the city, but it was still there, and Kirby felt a little twinge of sadness at the realization that she wouldn’t ever really see the sky full of stars unless she went much, much farther from home. 

“So, did you want to keep talking about Fallon?” Alice asked after a moment. 

Her voice cut through the soft music that she’d started playing on her phone, and Kirby stiffened as she felt the other woman turn to look at her, not daring to look and accidentally make eye contact.

“What do you mean?” 

“We were listening to the radio and you said that it was nice being allowed to listen to music while you were driving, ‘cause the car had such a good stereo and Fallon’s always went to waste, and then you said she was a psycho bitch, and then you almost started crying,” Alice explained, and Kirby felt her cheeks grow hotter with every word.

“ _ Then  _ you had a road-beer and said that publicists were dumb, anyway, and went on a rant about how magazines are a waste of paper because everyone has a phone. And then you just got so riled up about the environment that you stopped talking for a while.”

Kirby huffed out a single laugh, grateful that she hadn’t embarrassed herself any more by mentioning she and Fallon’s  _ other  _ relationship.

“You’re sort of an enigma, dude,” Alice told her, reaching over and taking her hand. 

“I don’t think so,” Kirby mused.

“Yeah, you are,” Alice insisted. “I thought it was on purpose, this whole time. I wish I could shut up and be mysterious once in a while. Don’t you ever get the feeling that… to know you more is to love you less?”

Her words made Kirby pause, and the two of them looked at each other for another long moment. It was almost like Alice could tell that her mind had wandered back to Fallon, even if she didn’t say it out loud - even if she didn’t know the whole story.

“I don’t think that’s a good way to interact with people,” Kirby hummed.

Alice shrugged.

“You’re probably right. You usually are.” She squeezed Kirby’s hand and sighed, sitting up and then digging into her pocket again. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”

She pulled out a smaller bag, this time, dipping one finger into her mouth and then into the bag, pulling it back out coated in fine white powder.

“I’m falling asleep, here,” she explained, holding the bag out. “You want a bump? Honestly, it’ll probably keep you from passing out at the wheel, again.”

Not even hesitating this time, Kirby reached out and carefully took the bag, sitting up herself and popping one finger into her mouth before dipping it into the bag.

“This is  _ just  _ coke, right?” She questioned.

“Scouts honor,” Alice promised, making a cross over her heart and then taking the bag back for a second helping. “I told you, I don’t touch the heavy stuff.”

Kirby considered for a moment just how long Alice must have been self-medicating to not consider  _ cocaine _ heavy, but squashed the thought to gum her dosage, wincing at the bitterness of it. 

“Alright, now I feel better.” Alice flopped back against the back window again and sipped from her wine bottle, with Kirby following suit quickly to relieve herself from the aftertaste. “So, what are you going to do next?”

“I’m really tired of answering that question.” Kirby realized as soon as the words left her mouth how they could have sounded rude, and quickly backtracked. “I just - sorry, it’s like,  _ every  _ interviewer wanted to know. ‘What’s next? What now?’ It wasn’t until we got further into the campaign that anyone wanted to even bring up the actual movie.”

Alice considered this, then shrugged.

“I like talking about the future. It’s like… how can anything bad happen if I keep moving? You manifest what you’re going to do and then it happens. At least in  _ some  _ universe, it does.”

Kirby glanced at her and chuckled, feeling the hazy warmth from her earlier trip washing over her a second time, and squirmed on the spot.

“You’re definitely peaking,” Alice observed, grinning and leaning over to kiss her again. “Okay. Okay. I’ll shut up now and we can enjoy nature, or whatever. Even though this headache is  _ still  _ pissing me off. You don’t have any like… aspirin in your bag, or something, do you?”

“I do, actually.” Kirby hopped up, suddenly feeling energized, and excited, and swung the drivers side door open to dig around in the back seat for her purse. She returned with the bottle, watching Alice tip four into her hand and throw them back.

“I have a tolerance!” She insisted in response to the disapproving look from the actress. “Ugh, or maybe I just have alcohol poisoning. If I puke to death, it’s your fault for picking strong beer.”

Sliding down from the trunk and wandering off shakily towards the bushes, and Kirby stood up once more as if to follow her.

“Hey, you don’t really look so good, maybe we should head back -” the actress tried, but Alice waved a hand dismissively.

“Don’t skip any songs on that playlist while I’m gone! It’s supposed to be a single experience. It’ll make you feel better about this whole garbage campaign, okay?”

She vanished behind the bushes as Kirby got comfortable on the trunk once more, closing her eyes despite the electricity coursing through her veins. She tried to force herself to relax a little, trying to force her body to remember the high from earlier instead of this caffeinated mess that she was trying to sit still through now. Her heart pounded in her chest during the silence between songs, and then Alice’s playlist continued.

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby sobbed, her heart feeling like it was trying to burn a hole through her chest as she listened to the seemingly never ending ringing through her phone’s speaker, sniffling and wiping her face as if the other woman was in the room with her when she finally heard her voice.

“ _ This is Fallon Carrington, my office hours are…” _

Gasping for breath, Kirby tried to maintain some composure, willing herself to be able to speak when she finally heard the ‘beep’ tone at the end of the voicemail introduction.

“Fallon, this is Kirby. Please, it’s been days. I need you to call me back. Please. I just - I need you. This is Kirby, by the way. Anders.”

Hanging up and flinging her phone angrily across the car from herself, Kirby pulled her knees up to her chest and rested them as gingerly against the horn as she could as to not set it off.

 

* * *

 

 

Theme music blaring from the television across from Kirby’s couch woke her up with a start, causing her to reflexively reach for her drink on the table and try to take a sip. When it appeared to be disappointingly empty, she grabbed the bottle from its spot on the floor at her feet, instead, and flung the cap aside as she took a long swig, before getting up and wandering towards the kitchen to avoid the entertainment news anchor on the screen.

_ “We’ve got all of your Oscar coverage, results from the weekend’s events, highlights, and more! But first, our breaking story: Alice Alby, beloved pop singer, dead at 29.” _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The line 'do you ever feel like to know you more is to love you less?' is a line from Hollyhock in season 4, episode 8 of Bojack Horseman.


	20. Chapter 20

Fallon scrolled through her voicemail screen as she made her way into her office, tapping each new message from Kirby, oldest to newest. It had been almost an entire week since the Oscars, and fielding progressively belligerent voicemails from her ex-client had officially become a part of her morning routine. 

 

She’d received enough complaints and harassment in her career, and hadn’t yet backed down and changed her phone number or blocked an old colleague, but she was beginning to feel close. There was hardly any reason to even listen to the messages as they came in, anymore - they always played out the same way.

 

Message one: Quiet, sad, pleading.  _ Please  _ call me back. 

 

Message two: Crying, sometimes with words, usually not.

 

Message three: Tipsy crying. Explanations and excuses and questions that Fallon didn’t have the answers to.

 

Message four: Angry. Sometimes she yelled, sometimes she just dug up the deepest cuts of insults that she could clearly think of at the time. Sometimes they stung.

 

Message five: Threats (or promises) that Fallon would never hear from her again. 

 

Lather, rinse, repeat. Every morning, like clockwork, the same messages appeared, with slightly different time stamps, and slightly different phrasing. 

 

Kirby wasn’t the biggest problem that Fallon was facing, anyway. With Blake and Cristal back as of the previous morning, Fallon had been running around since Awards day like a chicken with her head cut off, desperately trying to make sure that Carrington PR was still running smoothly without Jeff -  _ or _ the clients that he took with him. It had been difficult to manage, but she’d kept the building from burning down, and with a few well-placed threats from their legal team, she had Kori held in place for the time being.

 

It was tape over a leak, though, and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before the Visight team wiggled their way free and got back to work on pulling the foundation out from under Carrington PR.

 

Blake didn’t seem moved by Fallon’s efforts, but his distaste for Jeff outweighed his love for blaming his daughter for everything, so she’d managed to escape his fury for the time being. 

 

Cristal’s sickly sweet concern was even worse than Blake’s annoyance, though. She had only been back for the day, but wouldn’t stop hovering around Fallon’s office, keeping an eye on her as if expecting her to snap. 

 

Rounding the corner of the elevator banks toward her office, Fallon tightened her grip on her coffee and stared as hard as she could at her phone screen when she noticed Cristal approaching in her peripherals. Stepping her pace up, she all but scurried into her office and swung the door shut behind her, locking it with a resounding ‘click’, and breathing a sigh of relief. 

 

She’d have to talk to Cristal at some point. The season was over and she’d need to start on new projects, but after focusing on the legal war of keeping their long-term clients with them, she felt she deserved at least one morning to realign her priorities and figure out what her next move would be.

 

Booting up her computer and scrolling through her news bookmarks, Fallon kept an eye out for hints of scandal - especially from any faces fresh to their company that she could bring in as an olive branch to Blake. 

 

Unsurprisingly, Alice Alby was still the top headline on most pages. It was surreal to picture her actually being gone. Fallon obviously hadn’t been a fan of hers from the get-go, but she couldn’t deny the impact that she’d had, or the rippling wave of chaos that her death had caused.

 

She scrolled until she saw Kirby’s face - a blurry paparazzi shot of her leaving the police station from the morning that everything had happened - lined up side by side with a much more brightly lit and posed photo of her with Alice that Fallon recognized as one of their Instagram photos together. 

 

_ ‘Bidding War for Alice Alby Story Begins’  _ read the headline, but before Fallon could click on it, there was a knock at her door.

 

Groaning and getting up to unlock it, Fallon felt her heart jump up into her throat at the sight of Cristal holding two coffees.

 

“I already have coffee.” Fallon told her, moving to shut the door again, but Cristal shoved one leg in, propping it open carefully.

 

“I’m sure you could use more than one after the week you’ve had. Can we talk?”

 

Fallon wordlessly pulled the door open fully and stepped aside to let her stepmother in, closing it behind her and then standing before her with her hands clasped.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Your father is thinking about putting in an offer on Visight.”

 

Fallon narrowed her eyes. 

 

“I didn’t realize they were selling.”

 

“They’re not - not yet, at least. But with… everything that’s happened, and you blocking them from poaching Jeff’s clients from us -  _ thank you, by the way, _ ” Cristal continued, “ - They’re not going to be able to keep their heads above the water for too long. Not without a merger.”

 

Fallon scoffed.

 

“You  _ really  _ think Kori’s just going to roll over, fire a bunch of her staff, and come work for  _ us _ ?”

 

Cristal shrugged and shook her head, replying: “Not unless we have something she wants.”

 

“You mean  _ someone _ ,” Fallon corrected, already feeling uncomfortable as she made her way towards her desk and stepped behind it like it were a shield. 

 

“Will Cheval is looking for a new manager - and apparently Jeff’s been grooming him for Visight for awhile, but I figured maybe you could reach out.”

 

“And what exactly would I be offering him as a publicist when he’s looking for a manager?” Fallon could feel her patience wearing thin, and she took a few generous sips of the coffee she’d brought for herself.

 

“A shield,” Cristal answered simply. “He’s already back to work and his success with  _ Splintered Men  _ is already being overshadowed by everything going on with Kirby.”

 

Fallon stayed quiet for a moment, sipping her coffee once more, but Cristal continued.

 

“Have you talked to her yet? She could probably use a hand, too.”

 

“I haven’t,” Fallon hummed, watching with disdain as Cristal sat in one of the seats across from her, and she realized that she wasn’t getting out of the conversation without a fight. “I was only on contract until the end of the season. She’s not my problem anymore.”

 

“You seemed to be getting along fine,” Cristal pointed out.

 

“Yeah, well,” Fallon snapped back, her tone turning harsh, “Some people just want to take everyone else around them down with them. If she needs my professional help, I’m sure I’ll hear from her manager.”

 

Like clockwork, her inbox alerted her of a new email, and Cristal caught Fallon’s eye.

 

“...I’ll leave you to that.” she hummed, getting up from the seat and leaving the second coffee on Fallon’s desk for her as she made her way back out of the office. 

 

Fallon watched her go, making sure she was totally alone before clicking on the new email and narrowing her eyes as she recognized Kirby’s manager as the sender. It was from her office email, which only slightly put Fallon at ease as she scrolled down to read the message.

 

_ ‘Do you know of a ‘Liam Ridley’?’ _

 

Frowning to herself, Fallon opened a new tab and typed his name in, watching the results flood the screen. 

 

His LinkedIn profile appeared close to the bottom of the first page, and Fallon opened it in the background as she returned to the email once more.

 

_ ‘He’s been poking around asking for Kirby. I know your contract with her ended, but you would know better than anyone at this office would.’ _

 

She stared at the message for a moment and then clicked on Liam’s profile again. She scrolled through an admittedly impressive list of publications he had freelanced for - not just a journalist, an  _ investigative  _ journalist - but the closer she got to his present-day work, the more she realized he seemed to have fallen off of the map of print media and into the underworld of blogging.

 

Fallon recognized a few of the publications he’d worked for, but didn’t quite recognize him by his photo - though, she figured, she’d never had a client that had been under the microscope of any sort of investigation, or at least not the kind that involved journalists instead of police. 

 

Pulling up a reply email, she tugged her keyboard closer to herself to shoot off a reply to the woman.

 

_ ‘I know of him. What am I being asked?’ _

 

Fallon scrolled back through Liam’s profile to make note of a few of his pieces to look into later on, seeking out works specifically about dead celebrities, tributes and exposés, and the like. They didn’t have any mutual friends, either, which was vexing in its own way - Fallon had more than enough publications and writers in her arsenal, but no Liam - and no one who seemed to know him, either. 

 

Another knock at her door made her jump, startled, then groan in frustration.

 

_ “What?”  _ She called towards the door, trying to keep the gravelly anger out of her voice. 

 

Blake pushed his way in, seemingly unaffected by her tone. 

 

“Tell me everything,” he demanded, making his way over to her desk and standing before it. “Start at the beginning - and don’t leave out any details. We’ll need to meet with the lawyers tomorrow morning to make sure this whole thing is airtight.”

 

“If you’re talking about  _ Visight _ , then  _ yes,  _ it  _ is _ airtight. I made sure of it,” Fallon huffed. “No thanks to anyone else.”

 

“This isn’t the time to be whining for credit,” Blake snapped. “If you want a pat on the back, feel free to give yourself one, but the rest of us have a job to do in the meantime to keep ourselves out of trouble.”

 

Fallon’s computer ‘dinged’ again, and she dropped Blake’s gaze to look at the new email instead. 

 

_ ‘Could you talk to him? He’s in first place for this Alice Alby story. Kirby needs to get back to work, and I don’t think this is the way to go about it.’ _

 

Fallon considered for a moment, then waved a hand dismissively at her father when he tried to interrupt her train of thought by speaking again.

 

_ ‘I’ll give him a call. That’s all. And you know my rate.’ _

 

Sending off the email, she pulled Liam’s profile up again, and then turned to Blake with a sharp glare.

 

“I have actual work to do right now. I’ve done what I can with Jeff leaving, but everything else is out of my hands until you need me to talk to the lawyers. I have clients to talk to, though…” she gestured to her computer hintingly. “So if you could leave me to it, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“He didn’t even  _ mention  _ how the season had gone, or ask about Kirby, or anything!” 

Fallon all but slammed the condo door shut behind her and headed further inside, kicking off her heels.

_ “Do you want to be asked about Kirby?” _   Steven’s voice sounded small and tired through the phone receiver. 

“I don’t really want to talk about how she wasted her potential and, I don’t know,  _ killed _ her girlfriend or whatever, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be the polite thing to do to  _ ask _ ,” Fallon reasoned.

_ “He’s probably just stressed about Colby. Give him time.” _

“Don’t defend him!” She replied shrilly. “Even Cristal asked, though I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for me to snap so she can replace me.”

_ “Or she’s worried about you,”  _ Steven reasoned. “ _ That is the appropriate response to the whole thing.” _

There was a pause, and then he continued.

_ “ _ Are  _ you okay?” _

Fallon chewed her lip, pausing in the doorway to the kitchen and leaning on the frame defeatedly for a moment.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m fine.”

_ “You don’t sound fine,” _ Steven observed, his tone softening.  _ “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s been a rough couple of months, you’re not made of stone.” _

“I think that depends who you ask.” Fallon laughed humorlessly under her breath, making her way to the wine fridge and tugging it open, staring blankly into the bottles. 

_ “Why don’t you come down here for a few days? Take your mind off of everything?” _

“Because I still have work to do,” Fallon reminded him. “Between Jeff leaving and whatever the hell it is that Kirby’s manager expects me to look into for her - I swear, that woman is one crisis away from retiring - I have enough on my plate as it is.”

Pulling one of the bottles out of the rack and setting it down on the counter, Fallon tucked her phone to her shoulder and tracked down the corkscrew. 

_ “Alright. Fine. What’re we drinking, and who is this reporter you’re stalking?”  _

Fallon lifted the bottle to read the label.

“Krug Grande Cuvee,” she listed off, adding on, “The noir, please. I do not have the time or energy to pretend it’s a white wine kind of evening. D’you still have it?”

She listened to Steven shuffle around for a few moments, then the telltale sound of a bottle clinking onto the countertop. When she closed her eyes, for a moment, she could picture his apartment perfectly - the granite counters that she hated and the art that outdressed the building hanging on the wall above his television stand. She’d always hated the smell - the kitchen was too close to everything else and the scent of anything that he and Sam ever cooked or ordered always clung to the linens, mixing in with the combination of two separate colognes was cloying - but now, she missed it. 

_ “I have it. Let me just…” _

Fallon popped the cork on her own bottle almost simultaneously so that it sounded like the sound of his was an echo through the receiver. 

She poured a generous glass for herself and then leaned against the island, closing her eyes again. 

_ “Tell me about this reporter.” _

Her eyes snapped back open.

“Right.” 

Before she could begin her explanation, her phone beeped, the line going mute for a moment before she realized that she had a call waiting. Pulling it away from her ear and looking at the screen, Fallon groaned softly to herself at Kirby’s name and hit ‘deny’, before glancing back over her shoulder at the clock. It  _ was  _ about the time of night for the increasingly belligerent calling routine to begin. 

_ “What’s -” _

“It’s just Kirby,” Fallon dismissed. She could hear in the pause that she took that Steven was about to start asking questions, so she continued quickly. “This guy - everyone’s been trying to get better and better stories for their tell-alls about Alice, and I guess since a few of her friends are more than happy to share… anecdotes or whatever else, they’re starting to hound Kirby, which her entirely incompetent manager seems to think I should help her with.”

_ “This  _ is  _ literally your whole job,”  _ Steven pointed out. 

“I don’t work for her,” Fallon snapped back. “Not anymore.”

Steven was quiet for a moment.

“This doesn’t really count, though, I don’t have to do anything except figure out what he’s doing… what he wants from her, I guess.”

_ “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”  _ Steven’s words were disbelieving, even a little sarcastic, but Fallon didn’t let it get under her skin. She  _ did  _ have it under control. She’d nearly spun out for a moment, but her head was back on straight now, and soon enough, things would go back to normal.

“I do,” she promised Steven, taking a good-sized sip from her glass before standing upright. “You know I’ll call you if I don’t, though.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sufficient LinkedIn and Facebook stalking finally got Fallon through to Liam after another three days. 

It had taken daily calls to his business line and three emails to get a real response - after she’d read about how he’d practically had to resume-bomb and kick doors down for his first freelance writing gig, she figured he’d be endeared by her persistence. 

If he was, though, it wasn’t evident in his tone.

_ “Are you the one who’s been phoning me on all of my days off?” _

No ‘hello’, no name, no greeting of any kind, really, once he finally answered the phone.

“I wasn’t aware that freelancers had scheduled days off,” Fallon replied smoothly, trying to keep her tone level. She could feel a shake worming its way into it, the adrenaline rush of  _ finally  _ making headway coursing through her. 

“What can I help you with…” There was a pause, and the sound of shuffling paper, then, “Fallon Carrington?  _ Oh.” _

“Oh?” Fallon felt her heart sink a little, physically stopping herself from pacing her office by sitting down on the end of her desk. 

“You’re with that PR firm. Alright, so which one is yours?” Liam’s voice sounded tired - Fallon wondered if he always sounded that way, or if this particular project had just been that exhausting to work on.

“I don’t -”

“Who are you representing? I know it isn’t Alice, her team already left me plenty of threatening emails.”

_ Score one, Kori,  _ Fallon thought.

“Oh, I’m not - no, I’m not with Alice Alby, or any of her friends. I’m just doing some… ground work,” Fallon explained, trying her best to sound charming and casual, despite the sudden sharp spike of new intrique. “I was asked by  _ Phenom  _ management to return your call.”

Liam rustled papers again for another moment. 

“Ah.”

“So,” Fallon continued, shuffling her heels back and forth against the chair seat in front of her, trying to distract herself from asking too many questions out of personal interest. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m looking for Kirby Anders,” he reminded her.

“Well she’s a busy woman, Mr. Ridley. I’m sure you understand. Her recent Oscar nomination has her fielding too many offers to count,”  Fallon sold.

“Plus, the funeral is coming up,” Liam added, seemingly unaffected by her attempt to spin the conversation.

“Right,” she sighed, gritting her teeth a little. “Plus, the funeral. She just lost a close friend, very suddenly and very tragically, so, you can understand us not wanting her time to be wasted if doesn’t need to be.”

“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to her about,” Liam reasoned. “I mean, this story is happening one way or another, and it’s almost completely finished, too. It would be great to replace this police report transcript with a real interview. I’d like to give her a chance to explain herself before I do.”

Fallon sat up straight, her feet shooting down to the floor and her spine stiffening.

“Is that a  _ threat?” _ She hissed.

He chuckled softly - and she realized how quickly he’d made her drop her professional charm to make way for venom.

“No, no,” he assured her, and she could  _ hear  _ the smirk in his voice. “You know, I’m pretty busy here, and this is probably a better conversation to have in person. I’m taking your email out of my spam box as we speak, if you want to set something up.”

Fallon sighed quietly, using her free hand to rub her temple.

“This afternoon. I know you aren’t busy.”

There was a heavy pause and Fallon wondered for a moment if he’d call her on her overplay, but he conceded.

“Two o’ clock - can you make it to LACMA? I feel like a walk. So nice out.”

Fallon gritted her teeth, and then closed her eyes to take a deep calming breath.

“Sure. Bring me what you have so far. I’m curious, now.”

Liam hung up without another word, and Fallon was left alone in her office to process before she made her way back around the desk to email Kirby’s manager back.

 

* * *

 

 

Never late, but rarely early, Fallon made her way towards the entrance of the museum and pulled out her phone, glancing around subtly to see if Liam was anywhere nearby before texting him.

_ ‘Are you already here?’ _

Tucking her phone away and ignoring the hot afternoon sun on her hair, the brunette pulled it back and up as subtly as she could, trying to disperse some of the heat without looking overly casual.

“Fallon Carrington?”

Fallon whirled around, and immediately recognized Liam from his photo online. 

“How would you know that?” She asked, stepping a little bit closer as he stuck a hand out for her to shake.

“Because it’s six million degrees and you’re wearing slacks. The whole point of an out-of-office meeting is usually the lack of office attire.”

Fallon took his hand slowly, taking in his appearance.

He was definitely more casual than she was - put together, but considerably less so than she was. It made her wonder if he even had an office - though she figured the answer would probably be ‘no’.

“Shall we?” She nodded at the museum, but he shook his head slightly, and turned back toward the street.

“Not really an air-conditioning and whispering sort of guy. Let’s walk.”

“So this interview. D’you have something drafted up, or an angle you’re trying to push, or…”

“Wow,” Liam breathed, cutting her off. “You’re terrible at small talk, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Small talk is exactly that,” Fallon told him, cutting her eyes at him but looking away when he turned to her. “ _ Small.  _ And I have more important things to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Liam’s entire demeanour was  _ loose _ . The informal outfit and the way he smiled easily, as if somehow amused by how on-edge she was, just made her feel even more wound up in comparison. She hadn’t felt so self-conscious about being put together since she’d started working with Kirby.

Liam hiked his satchel up on his shoulder a little, continuing to prod at her.

“Do you start working on the next year’s Oscars as soon as these ones end?”

Fallon turned to him as she walked, her eyes narrowing.

“I may have done some preliminary Googling,” he admitted. “I’m flattered that you were so keen to take time off of lifestyle coaching vapid people into winning vapid awards, and selling DUIs off as inspirational pieces.”

“Wow,” Fallon laughed, “Tell me how you really feel.”

Liam shrugged, smiling a little, but even while walking next to him, she could see the tightness around his eyes. It wasn’t a look of amusement, but one that was establishing where he stood, like his statement was the equivalent of a poisonous frog shifting to show off its warning colors.  

“Did you bring what you have so far?” Fallon asked, clearing her throat uncomfortably and changing the subject. 

“I did. I don’t have to make you sign an NDA or anything, do I?” He asked, turning sharply towards a nearby bench and causing Fallon to scramble to keep up with him.

“What? No.”  Fallon sat stiffly next to him, reaching out for the pages as he pulled them from his bag, but he quickly drew his arm back, pausing and holding her gaze before handing her the sheets.

“So if you don’t actually work for Kirby, what’re you doing here?”

Liam’s voice cut through her train of thought as she flipped through the pages, scanning each one until the first mention of Kirby’s name. 

“Like I said,” she reminded him, “I’m returning a call.”

“Then you don’t need these.” Liam suddenly plucked the pages from her hands and she had to stop herself from reaching after them as he leaned away.

“Yes, I do,” Fallon insisted, holding her hand out impatiently, “I’m her publicist. Do you want this entire thing buried before it ever sees the light of day?”

Liam watched her, amused, before he handed the pages back to her.

“So I was right, then.”

“About what?”

Liam smirked.

“Y’know, making a career out of ensuring no one ever needs to be held accountable. Not if they’re important enough, at least.”

Fallon rolled her eyes. She wasn’t unused to the sentiment - it had been a big part of why Steven had stepped back from the business so long ago.

“That’s a pretty jaded way of looking at things,” she told him.

Liam shrugged a little. “It’s just how it is. Just because someone makes a mistake doesn’t mean they need to drop off of the face of the earth, but being held accountable isn’t a punishment. It’s just how the world’s supposed to work.”

He reached over and tapped the sheet that Fallon was holding, causing her gaze to drop back down to the page.

_ Unavailable for comment was Kirby Anders - perhaps the last person to see Alice alive, save for emergency services. Known online as a power duo, the two spent much of their time together in the months leading up to Alice’s death - even sparking dating rumours from some of the late singer’s closest fans and friends -- _

“You can’t publish this,” Fallon insisted, hearing the warble in her voice as she snapped the stack of papers together and held them tightly in her lap for a moment.

“Yes, I can.” Liam reached for the pages, but she held them tighter.

“No, I mean - I need you to kill this. Or at least cut her out. And she’s definitely not going to do this or any other interview about all of this.”

“Oh, so you talked to her?” Liam’s eyes jumped back and forth between Fallon’s - she recognized the gesture, too, steeling her resolve even as he looked for a crack in it.

“I told you, she’s busy right now. This kind of… bullshit is the last thing that she needs. She just lost a friend.”

“She’s  _ not  _ a victim here, Fallon, you -” she could hear the frustration in his voice, even though he kept his volume down. “A girl  _ died _ .”

It had been a while since Fallon had properly thought about Alice - and when she did, it was never so blunt, or so human. She was never ‘a young woman’, she was always ‘that singer’, or an image on a billboard. Liam’s harsh phrasing felt like a hit to her gut, which in turn made her briefly think about how Kirby had to have been feeling. Kirby, who always saw Alice not only as something much deeper than Fallon clearly ever did, but who  _ insisted  _ on their connection - insisted that no one understood her the way that Alice did.

And now, she was gone.

“I  _ get  _ that, and it… sucks, but -” Fallon tried to reason, but Liam cut her off.

“Do you  _ hear _ yourself, right now?” He scoffed slightly and shook his head in disbelief. “Look, I’m sure she misses her, but she took an addict out of sobriety, went on a bender with her and now she’s  _ dead _ . She doesn’t  _ get  _ to have some… redemption arc with PR, or to grow from the experience, or even  _ know  _ that anyone misses her because she’s dead, and that’s the end of it. Kirby’s going to have to live with it. Alice sure doesn’t get to.”

Fallon felt her throat go dry as she watched him grow visibly heated, and opened her mouth to respond, but he held a hand up.

“I’ve been working non-stop since the news broke, interviewing her friends, her family, her crew - anyone who has something to say. A  _ lot  _ of people lost her.”

“It’s not that black and white.” 

Liam sighed, running one hand through his hair, before handing the pages back to Fallon and standing up.

“Finish reading it, and get back to me.  _ That’s  _ the version I sent to the editor, but I’d rather update it. From a human perspective, not a PR one, I think it’ll look a lot better if she just… owns up to it. I’ll tell you what - I’ll have them move the deadline, I won’t give them the go-ahead to publish until you tell me what you decide.”

Fallon looked up at him, squinting slightly from the sun over his shoulder, then looked back down at her lap before tucking the pages into her bag and standing up herself.

“I told you, I’m not out to get her - but she can’t just walk away from this like it didn’t happen.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Fallon promised.

“Nice meeting you.” 

With that, Liam saluted with two fingers, and turned on his heel to head back down the street the same way that they’d come.


	21. Chapter 21

Settling in on her couch, surrounded by moving boxes, Kirby reached simultaneously for her phone and the open whiskey bottle on the floor beside the table, and started to dial. 

 

It was only her first call for the night, but the exhaustion from packing had begun to settle in, and she was already beginning to feel aggravated and anxious.

 

She thought, as she took a sip while the phone rang, about what she’d say. 

 

_“Fallon Carrington.”_

 

Kirby waited a beat, swigging from the bottle once more as she waited for the rest of the voicemail message to follow, nearly choking on her drink and spitting it onto herself when she realized it wasn’t coming.

 

_“Hello?”_

 

“Fallon?”

 

“Yes,” the other woman replied slowly, “That is the number you dialed.”

 

Glancing at the bottle that she held by its neck, Kirby squinted, wondering if it had been accidentally mixed with something else.

 

“You haven’t been taking my calls, forgive me for being surprised.” Kirby set the bottle down as quietly as possible.

 

Fallon was silent for a moment, and then cleared her throat.

 

“I’m actually glad you called.”

 

Feeling either the whiskey - very suddenly - or a swell of something else in her chest, Kirby sat up straighter and squeezed her eyes shut. She almost immediately felt tears of relief prickling up in the corners of her eyes, and had to take a shaky breath to keep her tone flat when she replied.

 

“Oh.”

 

“There was a writer poking his head around in all of this Alice- _stuff,_ and when I met with him a couple of days ago to try to talk him off the ledge, he said that he’d wait for my go-ahead - _our_ go-ahead - but an excerpt came out this morning and it’s… we should really have this meeting in person.”

 

Kirby’s heart sank.

 

“This is a business call,” she observed out loud, before adding, “Hey - you’re not even my publicist, not anymore, remember?”  


“Well, I am now.” Fallon’s tone was finite, and sure, a combination that seemed to have a soothing effect on Kirby despite everything going on. She didn’t have the energy to argue, and for a moment, she didn’t even want to.

 

“Okay. When are you free?”

 

“I’ll pick you up at 7. I have to go.”

 

Before Kirby could protest or ask any questions, Fallon was gone again. Panic pulled her to stand up from the couch, clutching her phone and trying to resist the urge to immediately phone the other woman back. They had plans for that night, but to have her suddenly be gone as quickly as she’d come back after ignoring Kirby for so long terrified her.

 

Distracting herself by pulling up her browser on her phone, she typed in Alice’s name, followed by her own, and immediately felt her breath catch in her throat.

 

In a marquee along the top of the web results were photos pulled from the image search - Kirby and Alice shot by paparazzi and screenshots from Instagram. None of the photos really looked like them. No selfie or candid seemed to properly emulate the quiet mornings in bed or one holding the other through a bad trip. Long, deep talks about anxieties and concerns about who would really be there if everything went downhill, giggling hysterically over a bottle of rosé and a romantic comedy or silently drinking coffee together during a hungover morning - none of these aspects of their relationship were present in any of the photos that Kirby scrolled through. It was with a heavy, rolling sadness that she realized she didn’t have anything tangible to remember any of those things by.

 

She didn’t know exactly which article Fallon had been talking about - there were plenty to choose from as she tore her eyes away from the row of photos and started to scroll further down the page.

 

As she was about to click on one result at random, her phone buzzed, and a message from Fallon appeared at the top of her screen like an eerily well-timed reminder.

 

_[2:30PM] Fallon PR: Don’t go looking for that story. We’ll talk tonight._

 

Shuddering at the timing, Kirby set her phone down and instead stared at the bottle of whiskey in front of her for a moment, then pressed the cap back on decisively. She had a little over four hours to sober up, and luckily her _real_ drinking didn’t usually start until dinnertime.

 

The issue with sobriety, however, was the constant intrusion of thoughts about Alice - and Fallon - and the campaign. Her entire future was another existential crisis she was constantly teetering on the brink of, though her lease coming to an end helped a little by giving her a short-term goal.

 

Showering was a chore, but she dragged herself into it and sat on the floor of the booth uncomfortably. Calling Fallon and leaving her a thousand voicemail messages had seemed very raw and emotional at first, but now that she was forced to actually face the other woman again, she felt embarrassed. She’d have to make an effort to look as put-together as possible for their meeting. Despite phoning and crying every night and being ignored, maybe this could be good closure for them.

 

As angry as she had been over Fallon ignoring her for so long, it hadn’t been a good enough reason to fully, mentally close the door on the relationship - or whatever charred remains of it were left. When the publicist had dropped off the face of Kirby’s earth after the Oscars, it hadn’t been a real goodbye. She felt that she maybe, after everything they’d been through together, deserved at least that much.

 

It was a long shower, but it had been overdue, and Kirby felt much better - at least physically - by the time she made her way into the half-empty bedroom, towelling off her hair. The apartment didn’t look like hers anymore, but she preferred it that way. 

 

Having packed all but one set of sheets away, her bed didn’t look like the one that Fallon had put her in while nagging her about her misbehaviour. The couch was no longer surrounded by her half-dead houseplants, and therefore didn’t look like the one she’d had sex with Alice on for the first time. Even the kitchen, now almost totally bare, didn’t resemble the one she came home to every day after being tormented by shitty interviewers or other work-related annoyances. Originally, she had wanted to wait to move despite being able to afford it — thinking that replacing her memories of struggling to make ends meet with positive thoughts of her successes would be a cleansing experience — but now, with her lease coming to a close, she felt like the apartment was full of ghosts.

 

She’d been avoiding the news as best she could since Alice had died, but even leaving her apartment put her at risk of being reminded of her, so she’d stuck to staying alone, inside, and drinking away both the boredom and intrusive thoughts.

 

The morning that she’d left the police station after repeating her statement so many times that she was too numb to cry through it anymore, she’d considered sobriety for the first time. It wasn’t as if she had a serious problem, or at least she’d always thought of it that way, but after seeing Alice’s idea of ‘not too serious’ firsthand, she considered a change.

 

It had only taken an hour alone in her apartment, sitting in silence, for her to change her mind back once more and down a bottle of wine without bothering to get a glass.

 

Even drunk, thoughts of Alice and a crushing guilt always set in, but the more she drank, the less coherent her stream of consciousness became. 

 

Now, sober, even pleasant memories felt painful. 

 

All it took was one thought of how her laughter sounded or the picture of her smile to make Kirby’s eyes sting with tears, but the idea of being a mess when she saw Fallon again was a terrible alternative.

 

Falling asleep wasn’t any easier. At night, she’d usually smoke herself sick so that she could curl up in bed without picturing Alice, but when Alice wasn’t haunting her, Fallon was. Through the _mildly_ aroused fog of being stoned, her mind sneakily wandered to her ex-publicist and the sharp physical turn that their relationship had taken despite how used and manipulated it made her feel in the end. The idea of going on with any aspect of her life, even for a moment, without thinking about Alice, made her feel horribly guilty, and the entire cycle would repeat. Thinking about Fallon in the midst of thinking about Alice was terribly confusing. 

 

With four hours still to stall before Fallon would be by to pick her up, Kirby put in her headphones and queued up the playlist that Alice had insisted on listening to that last night they’d had together. Drawing the blinds above her bed and shutting off the lights, Kirby laid down stiffly and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, trying not to let her mind wander.

 

* * *

 

 

Fallon texted her at exactly 7 o’ clock to let her know that she was outside and idling. The message sent a burst of nervous energy through her, and her earlier impatience turned into dread without warning.

 

She made her way outside on shaky legs, realizing she hadn’t given herself enough time for a calming cigarette, but shook off the thought before it could dig its claws in and spike a craving. 

 

Fallon looked so different.

 

Nothing about her had changed, but it was like Kirby was seeing her in a completely new light. It was like all of the softness that was always settled between her severity had doubled, making her look almost sympathetic.

 

 _No,_ Kirby realized, _Not sympathy. Pity._

 

“Hi.” Fallon dropped her gaze as she spoke, punctuating her greeting by clearing her throat and shifting the car into gear.

 

“That’s it?” Kirby asked, hearing the bitterness seep into her voice. “ _Hi?_ ”

 

“What else could you possibly need me to say, Kirby?” Fallon asked tiredly, pulling away from the curb and beginning to head down the street. 

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Kirby breathed, crossing her arms and shaking her head a little before turning her gaze back towards the windshield.

 

They drove in a heavy, awkward silence for a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity, before Kirby finally spoke again.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I don’t know,” Fallon admitted with a sigh. “I was trying to think of something.”

 

“Well, I could use a drink,” Kirby suggested. “And I think you probably owe me one for fucking off out of nowhere.”

 

Her words were blunt, and she was sure she saw Fallon wince in her peripherals.

 

Still, though, the brunette considered for a moment and then turned down another street.

 

“I told you that we would be going our separate ways,” Fallon replied. “I’m sorry about the Oscars, but I did all I can do -”

 

“You think this is about the campaign?” Kirby sputtered angrily. “How could you possibly think - we had something more than that.”

 

Fallon fell quiet again, and then opened her mouth to respond, but Kirby cut her off.

 

“No. No excuses, no more bullshit. You _used_ me, and then acted like you were there for me, and then when I needed you - both times I needed you - you abandoned me. What kind of fucking monster -”

 

She stopped herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She had thrown enough venomous insult and thought at Fallon via voicemail for the last while. 

 

“I didn’t use you anymore than you used me,” Fallon scoffed. “Oh boo fucking hoo, I let you sleep with me after you spent months drooling over me and your celebrity crush was ghosting you.”

 

 _“Let me?”_ Kirby laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “You’re the most manipulative person I’ve ever met. Pull over. I don’t care about the stupid article.”

 

“No.” Fallon rolled her eyes and Kirby immediately turned to glare at her.

 

“Yes. Let me out of the fucking car.”

 

“No,” Fallon repeated, shaking her head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

 

“This is kidnapping.”

 

Fallon snorted.

 

“Someone call TMZ.”

 

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Fallon,” Kirby snapped, feeling her irritation rising up and making her clench her fists.

 

Fallon did a double take at her and shook her head.

 

“You gonna swing on me?”

 

“I should,” Kirby practically hissed.

 

“Yeah? That’d make you feel better?” Fallon’s voice was sickly and mocking, and it actually took Kirby a moment to get the urge to slap her under control. “Maybe you should just abuse my voicemail more, that seemed to be a pretty good therapy alternative. You’re _so_ composed now.”

 

Surprising even herself, Kirby felt tears prick up in the corners of her eyes and she had to look away, turning in her seat so much that she was practically facing right out of the passenger side window.

 

Fallon was quiet for a moment, and then cleared her throat.

 

“That was cruel. I’m sorry.”

 

Sniffling before she could help herself, Kirby quickly wiped at one of her eyes and clenched her jaw, willing her eyes to stop watering.

 

Fallon sighed softly beside her, and Kirby felt the car slowing down until it reached a stop.

 

Looking up in confusion, she turned to see where they’d parked, and then looked at Fallon for an explanation.

 

Upon seeing the actress’s face, Fallon’s own expression softened even further, and Kirby was surprised to recognize it as a look of _genuine_ sympathy, this time.

 

“What’re we doing here?” She asked.

 

“You don’t need a drink. We’re going to go upstairs, you can read the excerpt, and we’ll discuss a game plan.” Fallon explained, already undoing her seatbelt as she pulled towards the entrance to the parking garage.

 

Kirby turned her attention back out the window to Fallon’s condo complex, as it slipped away from her view, and settled back in her seat a little. The last time she’d been in Fallon’s condo had been the day of the nomination announcements. She’d been so giddy and hopeful back then. Why had she thought that an award was going to be such an important part of her happiness?

 

She followed Fallon out of the car and towards the elevator, trailing just a couple of steps behind her. It was oddly familiar, following her around, but she tried not to dwell too much on the thought - that part of her life was over, and it wouldn’t help to get nostalgic about it.

 

She expected Fallon’s condo to look the same as it had the first (and only) time that she’d been in it, but it was considerably more cluttered than she remembered. Paperwork littered every flat workable surface and all of her work electronics were scattered around. 

 

“What -” she started to ask, but Fallon didn’t give her the chance to finish her question.

 

“Nothing you need to worry about. Sit.”

 

Kirby gently moved some papers aside from the couch and gingerly took a seat as Fallon disappeared up the staircase. The moment alone gave her a chance to take a better look around, trying to find something familiar to focus on to keep the discomfort at bay. 

 

There was still so much that she wanted to get off of her chest, but all it had taken was one look from Fallon, as if she’d been silently asking if she was okay, for her to let the exhaustion from the past week take over her entire being. She felt too tired to argue, too tired to fight, or demand an apology. She just wanted to curl up on the couch and let Fallon work around her for the rest of the evening, content to be quietly alone with her after such a long radio silence. 

 

Fallon returned a moment later with another tablet, handing it wordlessly to Kirby before she began to pace back and forth in front of the couch that she was sitting on. Unlocking it with a sinking feeling of dread, Kirby dropped her gaze from the other woman to the screen in front of her, and took a steadying breath before she started to read.

 

 _Perhaps what is most interesting about the entire tragedy is that it occurred on the night of the Academy Awards.  Expected at an after-party at the Beverly Hills Hilton, actress Kirby Anders (_ Splintered Men _) was instead with Alice at her penthouse apartment in West Hollywood.  Sources close to Alby theorize that, after losing her nomination category after a rigorous public-relations campaign, Anders turned to substance abuse and, in turn, spent the night Alby._

 

_No stranger to addiction, Alice Alby was often praised by her adoring fanbase for her apparent power to overcome, often citing anxieties about the trappings of fame as an explanation as to why she turned to her various vices over the years. A few months before her untimely death, Alice was admitted to a rehabilitation center in Sweden, where she spent a short period of time detoxing._

 

_Anders was unavailable for comment, but attached is a copy of her statement, available for public access, to the police directly following the incident.  She cites a combination of drugs and alcohol that the two of them consumed together as the cause of death, which autopsy later revealed to be accurate. Anders was also unavailable for comment to confirm or deny the accuracy of the rumours that she and Alby’s relationship was beyond platonic._

 

Kirby glanced up from the page and looked at Fallon curiously. 

 

“Keep going,” she insisted.

 

“I don’t have to.” Kirby held the tablet back out to the other woman, shaking her head a little. 

 

“I know it’s a little harsh, but you need to -” Fallon started, but Kirby cut her off.

 

“No, it’s… it isn’t wrong.”

 

Fallon paused.

 

Kirby felt an odd sort of lightness pass over her. It was slow-moving, but warm. The words on the page might have been a little blunt to read - picturing Alice as just a news story that would eventually cycle out was difficult - but there wasn’t any hint of a lie to them. 

 

“I don’t think I can move on from this, anyway, unless people know what happened,” Kirby admitted. “I need to be honest.”

 

“That could make or break you,” Fallon reminded her, taking the tablet slowly and setting it aside. “Look, I’ve already called him about four thousand times. He went back on his word.”

 

“I’ve never taken you for the oral contract type,” Kirby mused, leaning back a little on the couch. She had to resist the urge to yawn, the combination of dizzying relief and all of the exhaustion of the week catching up to her.

 

“You look tired,” Fallon pointed out after a moment. 

 

Kirby chuckled humorlessly. 

 

“I am tired. I feel like I need to fall into a coma for fifteen years.” She rubbed her eyes, smearing her mascara against the backs of her hands, but ignored it and slapped her hands down to her thighs, preparing to stand up. “I should go.”

 

“No, wait.” Fallon held a hand up to stop her. “Sit. I’ll try Liam again.”

 

Kirby relaxed into the couch once more, watching Fallon pull her phone out.

 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she assured her, turning and heading towards the stairs again, causing Kirby to crane around to watch her leave. 

 

Left alone in the living room, surrounded by papers and silence, Kirby tugged one leg up and crossed it over the other, laying back with her head against the back of the couch. She hoped Fallon would hurry back, desperately needing a nap. The thought of her own bed - or even getting up and moving to go home - was unappealing, especially considering how comfortable the couch she was curled up on was, but she knew it was necessary.

 

* * *

 

 

She woke up to the smell of tomato and spices, groggily lifting her head and blinking the sleep from her eyes and glancing around in confusion.

 

The papers had been cleared from the couch, and with a glance out of the window that spanned along the wall of the living room, Kirby noted that it was much darker outside than it had been when decided she’d ‘rest her eyes for a moment’. She felt uncomfortably hot, the downside to falling asleep fully clothed, and wrestled her way out of the throw blanket that was wrapped around her lower body before getting up from the couch and padding off in search of Fallon.

 

Making her way towards the kitchen, following the smell of food, Kirby paused in the doorway and took in the sight of the other woman, leaned distractedly over a bowl with her phone in her hand, nearly missing her mouth with a forkful of salad as she paid more attention to the screen.

 

It was endearing, but she had to admit that she wasn’t familiar with this particular Fallon. Brow furrowed in concentration, sitting alone entirely unaware that anyone was even looking at her, nothing about her was putting on any sort of act. It made Kirby feel almost guilty or voyeuristic, so she cleared her throat to alert her of her presence. 

 

“You could’ve woken me up,” Kirby pointed out, stepping into the kitchen a little more when Fallon’s head jerked up in alarm.

 

“You obviously needed to sleep,” Fallon dismissed, dropping her fork into the bowl and straightening her posture. “There’s pasta.” 

 

The brunette nodded to the takeout bag on the counter next to the likely never-used stovetop before turning her attention back to her phone.

 

“I take it you didn’t get ahold of your journalist,” Kirby hummed, trying momentarily to resist the urge to settle in and eat - but her stomach protested the idea of turning down real hot food, so she made her way over to the bag and peered into it.

 

“No, not yet, but this is interesting, isn’t it?”

 

Fallon held her phone up for Kirby to see, and the redhead set down the container of pasta before leaning in closer, squinting.

 

“Is that him?” She asked. On the screen was a photo of a man and a woman in front of the _Popnosis_ sign. The woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her.

 

“Mhm,” Fallon confirmed. “You recognize her?”

 

Kirby shook her head, and Fallon pulled the phone back to look again.

 

“We ran into her a little while back, during one of your junkets. She had all sorts of questions for you about Alice.”

 

Kirby reached for the phone to take a better look.

 

“Oh, shit, right, at the bar.”

 

Fallon nodded slowly, taking the phone back once more and reading from the screen.

 

“ _Ashley Cunningham_. God, even her name sounds bitchy.” Fallon shuddered a little, taking her fork from her salad and reaching over to blindly stab up a piece of pasta from the bowl Kirby had opened. “No wonder she went ahead and published that snippet. Ugh… I left Liam so many unsavory messages. I should probably apologize.”

 

“Maybe that’s why he’s not taking your calls,” Kirby suggested lightly, stabbing up a few pieces of pasta for herself and taking a bite. Her entire mouth watered immediately and she could have kissed Fallon for placing the order. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an actual meal. Letting out a tiny moan of appreciation made the other woman chuckle under her breath, and Kirby’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of it. _God_ , she missed it.

 

“Good?” Fallon asked, clearly already knowing the answer. Kirby nodded and took a few more fast bites, trying to will herself to have an ounce of control, but not being able to stop. She was too hungry to even feel embarrassed as Fallon watched her, but the other woman speaking again startled her. 

 

“You seem like you’re feeling a bit better.”

 

“The only person who was ever actually there for me is still dead, so, I could be better.”

 

She knew her reply was bitter, and harsh - probably more cruel of an answer than Fallon deserved after tucking her in and feeding her dinner - but she couldn’t help it. 

 

Fallon didn’t seem bothered, though.

 

“Kirby, people can be there for you without enabling you.”

 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Kirby sighed, though she could hear herself sounding more unimpressed than angry. “You were sleeping with me for how long? A month?”

 

Fallon dropped her gaze and fiddled with one of her rings, and for a moment, Kirby knew all she wanted was for the other woman to confess that it hadn’t been a game, or a lie, and that she’d wanted her just as badly all along. Being back in her space, talking to her one-on-one, all it was doing was reminding her of how serious she had been about her feelings for Fallon until she’d had her heart stomped on.

 

“Okay, please -” Kirby started, but then jumped as Fallon’s phone rang loudly on the counter between them.

 

Snatching it up, Fallon’s eyes darted across the screen.

 

“Hold on, it’s Liam.” She held one finger up. “Fallon Carrington.”

 

Pulling the phone from her ear and hitting the ‘speaker’ button, Fallon set the phone back down and they both leaned in closer.

 

“-ey Fallon, it’s Liam. I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you. I finally got ahold of Ashley and the excerpt is down now. I’ve been working on it all day, trust me. I didn’t give anyone the go-ahead.”

 

“Thank you.” Fallon sighed, the stress evident in her tone as she reached up to rub her temple.

 

“I have more people to call, I’m sorry -” Liam’s end grew staticky for a moment, before he continued. “Fuck. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

 

Before Fallon could say another word, he’d hung up, and she and Kirby were thrown back into a heavy, awkward silence.

 

“Wow,” Kirby breathed.

 

Fallon waited a beat and then cleared her throat.

 

“I guess this would be the second professional-parting of our shared career,” she hummed, pushing her half-empty salad aside and wiping invisible dust from her hands.

 

“Do I at least get a handshake this time?” Kirby asked, trying to break some of the uncomfortable tension.

 

Chuckling nervously, Fallon extended one hand and stood up.

 

“Are we okay?” Kirby asked, catching the other woman’s eye and holding her gaze seriously for a moment. She felt Fallon’s hand squeeze hers slightly out of reflex before they let go.

 

Nodding, Fallon managed a small half-smile.

 

“Yes. And you have my number if you ever get in over your head in scandal again.”

 

Kirby shook her head, laughing nervously.

 

“No, no thank you. I think I’m just going to lay low. Take a look at some of those offers and see if anyone will still have me and just… focus on the work, again.”

 

Fallon watched her, and for a brief moment, Kirby saw a look of something closer to pleading cross her face before it vanished back under the veil of professionalism. With a little hint of clarity in how she was feeling, especially concerning her guilt over Alice, though, Kirby suddenly felt her resolve was renewed. She desperately wanted to lean in; kiss her just one last time before closing the door on everything, but she held her ground. Whether she suspected that their relationship had meant more to Fallon than simply getting what she wanted, if the other woman wasn’t going to say it, she’d have to let it go.

 

“Bye, Fallon.”

 

Turning on her heel, she walked straight towards the doorway and stepped into her shoes, marching out into the hallway and letting the door swing shut behind her without looking back.


	22. Chapter 22

When Fallon walked into her office and saw both her father and stepmother waiting for her, she knew that it had to be either wonderful news, or horrible. Noting the champagne that was waiting on her desk, Fallon came to the quick conclusion that it was likely the former - but good news for Blake and Cristal didn’t always mean good news for Fallon.

 

“What is all of this?” She asked slowly as she stepped further inside.

 

Blake handed her a flute and smiled wryly, leaning against her desk.

 

“This is us, celebrating your new client, and our new expansion into management,” he told her as she took the glass delicately from him.

 

Fallon paused to process before her eyes widened.

 

“You got Visight?”

 

Blake opened his mouth to confirm but Cristal corrected him before he could.

 

“ _ We _ got Visight.” She held her own glass up in an air-cheers from Blake’s other side, catching Fallon’s eye. “Couldn’t have done it without you. That’s why  _ we _ agreed that you should have first dibs on Will Cheval.”

 

Something about her tone made Fallon feel that it was more of a Cristal-decision than a team-decision, but she didn’t dwell on it.

 

“This is… huge,” Fallon breathed, taking a sip of her champagne when she suddenly felt her mouth going dry. “How did you even manage this?”

 

“Well, it’s like Cristal said,” Blake explained. “Without Alice Alby, and without enough of Colby’s clients, they really only had a few good horses left in the stable. Plus, Will is offer only, and he’s picky. He’s good, but he can’t keep the lights on in that building alone.”

 

“Since when has he even been represented at Visight?” Fallon asked, backtracking. Everything was happening so quickly that it was difficult to wrap her mind around each new development.

 

“He was in negotiations with them late last year, I guess, but the news that we wanted to buy out Visight was the final nail in the coffin,” Cristal explained. “Obviously we made a good impression somehow. You can’t buy that kind of word-of-mouth praise.”

 

Fallon sipped her champagne again, the gears turning in her mind before a lightbulb seemed to go off.  _ Kirby. Of course. _

 

“So what happens now?”

 

“A merger.” Blake downed the last of his champagne before continuing. “The Visight team is small, right now, but we need to expand - our PR team can’t be double the size of our management side. I’ve been looking into a few new locations to split them right down the middle, but until then, we’ll move them here.”

 

Fallon winced.

 

“Great.”

 

“It’s a small price to pay for doubling our assets,” Blake assured her, topping up her half-finished champagne and then standing upright again. “Just wanted to update you.”

 

He made his way towards the door, followed by Cristal, who paused and turned back as Blake headed out into the hallway.

 

“That was really quick work on the article excerpt, Fallon. Good work.”

 

Fallon looked up at her as she smiled faintly, and then set her glass down on the corner of her desk.

 

“Right. No thanks to anyone else,” she huffed, but Cristal just scoffed, rolling her eyes in amusement and shutting the door behind her as she left.

 

Settling in at her computer, Fallon pulled up her roster and began to scan through it, noting anyone she’d worked with that had mentioned switching management in the last year or so, wanting to get a head start. 

 

She felt almost a little smug at the idea of Jeff being crammed back into his old office - and probably with a roommate until they managed to expand locations - and reached for her phone.

 

Opening up a new message, ready to share the news, she paused and realized that she had run out of options. Steven was back in the swing of things with his own work, too busy to answer texts for days at a time, not to mention he had probably heard the news already on his own. Monica wasn’t exactly her go-to to mock Jeff behind his back - the siblings were very close, after all. Michael had been cut off almost entirely - she’d turned down a few invitations from Monica to get drinks at Le Grand when she’d gotten too busy with the campaign, and she knew in the back of her mind that they’d been carrying on without her. Kirby seemed to like Jeff, too, and even without that particular factor, it wasn’t as if the two of them were on close terms - not anymore.

 

When Kirby had left her condo a week earlier, Fallon had been left entirely alone to process how everything over the last several months had gone and how it had ended -  but instead of doing that, she just packed up her leftovers, poured herself a glass of wine, and went straight to bed.

 

The next day, first thing in the morning, she had texted the other woman a follow up about the article, passing along Liam’s apology with it, but only receiving a ‘thumbs up’ emoji in response. 

 

Three hours later, she refreshed Kirby’s social media only to find that she still hadn’t used them at all since the Oscars - and sent her another text, letting her know that if she needed, Fallon could put her in touch with a social media expert to help her with a statement and moving on.

 

Kirby didn’t reply for another hour, with a quick, ‘I’m alright, thanks though.’ Fallon stared at it for almost ten minutes trying to decide if she should even bother trying again.

 

When she had told Kirby to call her if she needed anything, she’d been expecting a call a little sooner. After all, she’d been cleaning up after Kirby for the last seven months. Even when she’d stopped taking her calls after the awards, she’d been too busy with every other bit of drama that had landed on her desk to stop and realize that the metaphorical room was spinning around her.

 

Now, with no distractions, and no Kirby, she felt directionless.

 

The new merger would keep her busy for the time being - but the problem with getting too ahead at work meant she’d have too much down time to spend overthinking. Blake being in an uncharacteristically good mood meant she was given enough on her plate to be preoccupied all the way until it was time to go home at the end of the day, but as soon as she stepped into her condo, she felt the itching restlessness settle over her.

 

She’d give her time. It was always only a matter of waiting until Kirby got in over her head, or had something new happen that she wasn’t mentally prepared for, and needed to have Fallon come riding in on a white horse to rescue her. That, however, usually involved a pep talk. Or sex. Neither of which Kirby probably wanted from Fallon, anymore.

 

If you’d told her upon meeting Kirby that everything would end with her having a newfound confidence, independence, and the ability to keep her own life in order, Fallon would have cried from relief. Now, however, she had to admit that she missed having someone lean on her.

 

There was always a pattern, though. Kirby would be back to work in no time, she’d say the wrong thing to the wrong person, call Fallon in a panic and beg her to put the pieces back together, and everything would make sense again.

 

She just needed time.

 

* * *

 

 

**THREE MONTHS LATER**

“Hey,” Jeff knocked on Fallon’s open office door and leaned against it, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m glad they taught you how to knock during your short stint in management,” Fallon hummed, glancing up with a fake, forced smile before jerking her head towards the seats across from her desk. “Fine. What? I’m kind of busy.”

Jeff made her way over, reaching past Fallon’s keyboard and grabbing the remote for the television on the opposite wall.

“Your girl’s on TV.”

Switching it on, he scrolled down a couple of channels and then set the remote back down as Kirby filled the screen.

_ “After narrowly avoiding a nightmare of backlash that followed a night of partying - which is claimed to have caused the death of pop singer Alice Alby - Kirby Anders is back to work and on set of her newest film, an explosive spy thriller _ The Last Fire.” 

Fallon watched as the on-set reporter stood before a massive blown up poster, trying to make out Kirby’s face among the rest of the cast. 

_ “Production is well underway, already ahead of schedule, and with acclaimed director James Steele at the helm of the ship, it’s sure to be the action adventure of the year.” _

The camera cut sharply to Kirby, fully made up with a thin sheen of sweat covering her face and hair as she swigged breathlessly from a bottle of water.

_ “He’s absolutely amazing,” _ she gushed,  _ “I’ve never felt so personally empowered through a single character before. It’s definitely bled into my real life in a positive way.” _

The camera returned to the reporter, and Fallon glanced up at Jeff, who simply gave her a knowing look as he switched off the television.

“Did you teach her all of that?”

Fallon blinked in confusion.

“What? How to put a sentence together?”

“How to rise out of the ashes,” Jeff clarified. 

Fallon sighed, and then shook her head.

“Nope, she figured that one out on her own, it looks like. Unless she’s got some other secret publicist that I don’t know about.”

“What, you think she’s cheating on you?”

Fallon looked up at him in alarm, causing him to chuckle.

“Relax. Figure of speech. She really sank her teeth into you, huh?” He stepped around the desk and sat down without invitation, causing Fallon to roll her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fallon dropped his gaze quickly and straightened the papers in front of her on the desk, waiting for him to leave. 

He didn’t move to go, however, and instead made himself more visibly comfortable.

“C’mon, Fallon, she was practically floating behind you on a heart shaped cloud everywhere you went.” 

She stiffened, glancing briefly at her still-open office door, but Jeff calmed her nerves with his next words unintentionally.

“She really wanted to impress you. I’m surprised she didn’t keep you on full-time, especially after you got her out of that mess with Alice.”

“Oh.” Fallon sunk back into her seat a little. “Yeah, well… yeah. She’ll have production’s PR handling her now, I guess.”

“Good timing, too.” Jeff stood up as he spoke, adjusting his jacket. “I know how annoying having Alice hanging off of her was, and now that it sounds like she’s got Darcy Day trailing around her like a lost puppy, you’d be in way over your limit.”

Fallon stared at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. She processed the attempt to undermine her, but ignored that as she tried to wrap her head around everything else.

“Darcy Day?”

“Yeah, he’s some… up and comer she’s working with. He seems nice enough but I doubt it’s real,  _ or _ that it’ll last, if it is. You know what they say, the devil works hard…”

“And publicists work harder,” Fallon finished for him, frowning to herself as he chuckled and made his way out of her office. 

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she booted up her computer and quickly opened her browser. It had been an adjustment to have Jeff around again, but Fallon had to admit the competition had lit a fire under her ass, and the added bonus of him dropping tidbits of useful gossip for free, just to prove that he had his ear to the ground more seriously than she did, was especially helpful.

She was almost embarrassed at ‘Kirby Anders - Google Search Results’ being part of the ‘frequently visited’ section of her homepage, but didn’t give herself time to dwell before clicking on it and scrolling impatiently. 

It only took her a few minutes of scrolling, and then combing through fan-speculation, to see how quickly the dating rumours had taken off. Shots of Kirby with the actor that Fallon didn’t recognize littered every page she browsed - stills from the set, paparazzi sets, screenshots from shared interviews… she had to exit and turn off her computer monitor altogether to avoid letting her anger take over completely.

Grabbing her phone and pulling up her text thread with Kirby, she started to type.

_ ‘I’m glad you came around and stopped resisting people trying to cultivate a helpful image for you.’ _

Unable to abstain from one irritated jab, however, she added a second part, just as the first text sent.

_ ‘It’s a little insulting that you wouldn’t let me do it for you last year but what’s personal growth without a little hypocrisy?’ _

She didn’t expect an answer quickly, not with Kirby so clearly having moved on with every aspect of her life, so when Fallon’s phone buzzed to life before she even had a chance to set it down, she jumped in surprise.

_ [1:01PM] Kirby Anders: did you get the wrong number? _

Fallon glared at the message and then pulled up her phone’s browser, taking a screenshot of the results she’d been looking at on her computer a moment earlier, and then sent it off without context to Kirby before she could stop herself.

Feeling a little bit better, Fallon leaned back in her seat and relaxed. Fucking  _ Kirby _ and her hypocrisy and flimsy morals and -

Her phone rang loudly - almost louder than usual, it seemed - and startled her.

Kirby’s name flashed on the screen and Fallon felt a sudden dip in her stomach that she recognized as dread, before realizing it was paired with something else entirely: giddiness. 

Like a child realizing the consequences of acting out despite the intention in the first place being attention, she felt excited about the reaction, but worried about what it would be.

“Fallon Carrington.” She tried to sound casual as she picked up, as if it hadn’t been months since she’d spoken to Kirby.

“Where do you get off calling  _ me _ a hypocrite?” Kirby asked. Fallon could hear something sizzling in the background, followed by the sound of a pan scraping on a stove top. “You made fun of me for  _ months _ for not asking Alice out, and now you’re all upset because of a dating rumour? Spare me.”

Fallon felt her heart rate pick up due to the surprisingly playful undertone to Kirby’s words. 

“That isn’t -” she started to protest, eyebrows shooting up in surprise when Kirby cut her off smoothly.

“Ah ah. You can sort your feelings out like a big girl, but I’m not letting you harass me anymore until then. Lose my number, Fallon.”

Fallon could still  _ hear _ the laughter in her voice, though, despite the harsh-sounding words. 

“And what if I have some big opportunity for you?” She reasoned, trying to sound as flirty and aloof as the other woman was, despite how hard her heart was pounding against her ribs.

“Hm,” Kirby considered, followed by the sound of a pan being slid to another burner. “I guess you can call me, then. I thought you’d be busy, I heard you bought Visight.”

“Well I didn’t buy it, personally, but -”

“I’ve got to go, Fallon.” Kirby cut her off again. “Stop cyber-stalking me.”

Fallon heard her laugh genuinely just as she hung up on her, and then sat back in her own desk seat with wide eyes. She was relieved that the other woman hadn’t seemed too upset with her, but the way she’d so confidently thrown everything that had been uncomfortably unspoken between the two of them onto the table left Fallon shaken to the core. 

There was no way, at this point, that she could ever reach out to Kirby with a fake excuse again.

Still, the entire interaction left her feeling light. It felt like she was full of champagne - fizzy and bubbly and - she felt the overwhelming urge to laugh despite her embarrassment.

“Eugh!” She exclaimed, only to herself, gripping her phone before slamming it down on the desk, her grin breaking through no matter how hard she tried to fight it off. “Shit. Okay, Fallon, get it together.”

Shaking her head and then her shoulders as if physically flinging off any leftover giggliness, Fallon switched her computer monitor back on, and tried to get back to work.


	23. Chapter 23

Kirby tried to tell herself that she wasn’t completely endeared by Fallon’s last-ditch, flailing attempt to land in her line of sight. She knew it was a lie, because she’d spent the entire rest of her afternoon off thinking about her, and where she usually felt a bit of dread and confusion in her stomach after any sort of Fallon-interaction, she now just felt pure affection. She’d barely held it together on the phone, trying to stand her ground and appear stern - not mean - but hearing the panic in Fallon’s voice, and the way she scrambled to continue the conversation or turn the tables, was admittedly and unfortunately adorable.

 

It confirmed her theory from three months prior, too, when she’d been preparing to leave Fallon alone in her kitchen and walk away with the closure she deserved after being pulled around for so long - there _was_ a look of worry on Fallon’s face. She hadn’t been totally ready for it to end, then, either. 

 

It seemed like Kirby had done a better job of keeping it together in the three months that had passed, though.

 

While it had been fun to play the Fallon side of things for awhile, giving ultimatums and telling the other woman she was too busy to deal with whatever it was she was phoning about, she decided to give herself an ultimatum, too. She’d give Fallon another week or two. When Fallon had reached out to her during that first month, a small part of her had hoped that they could eventually move to something more closely resembling friends, if not at least colleagues, but it was becoming more and more clear that one if not both of them would always be dancing around a much different set of feelings. 

 

If Fallon didn’t heed the warning and just address how she felt, Kirby would let it go. She had been feeling so much happier and confident in the last few months, so cutting the other woman off cold didn’t seem necessary - but she’d make the effort to let whatever else she wanted from _them_ go. No more teasing, no more flirting; she’d mind her business and move on. 

 

Though, making her jealous going forward until they reached that point wasn’t the worst idea.

 

She hadn’t done it _intentionally_ the first time. She and Darcy had laughed off the rumours when they first caught wind of them. It hadn’t taken the media by storm or anything, and it was harmless enough to become an inside joke that the two of them could bond over. She’d just… missed making friends.

 

Thinking about Alice was becoming less and less painful, but the loneliness wasn’t going to just go away with time and no effort on Kirby’s part. 

 

For the first month, she’d felt guilty for so many different reasons. That first invitation to go for after-work drinks felt wrong, especially when one of the suggestions was a bar that she’d frequented with Alice. She’d originally turned the invitation down, not ready to see it again, and definitely not with new people surrounding her. She told herself when she arrived home that it was a normal reaction - but the next time, when a new place was suggested, she still felt herself pulling away.

 

She couldn’t justify making friends, or moving on, or enjoying anything while Alice was gone. Being able to continue her career or experience success felt like slaps in the face to the woman who had had all of her successes cut short in the height of them all. 

 

The third time, she’d relented. She still felt too raw to try the therapy that she knew she should have checked out, but she took it slowly, coming out of her shell one baby step at a time. It had only taken one of her stylists having one shot too many and rushing off to the bathroom to purge for Kirby to fall into a complete state of overbearing and spend the entire rest of the night by her side, keeping an eye on her intake and nearly force-feeding her glasses of ice water. It took everything in her power not to bring her home and feed her toast when the night ended, and even when she’d gone home alone and tucked herself into bed, she stayed up for the entire night worrying.

 

By month two, she sought out a therapist.

 

She wasn’t sure how she’d ever gone so long without one. It wasn’t until she was sitting in a small, dull office and crying about everything that had happened in the two years that she realized just how crushingly lonely she’d become. 

 

Fallon and Alice were two opposite ends of the spectrum that Kirby had subconsciously tried to balance herself between, in the last year alone, but she had needed someone else to point out that it wasn’t a healthy way to measure where a good balance was: Alice, cripplingly extroverted and needing to have someone, anyone, around at all times, or Fallon, someone who visibly couldn’t wait until she could be by herself.

 

She talked at length about the culture shock of moving with no one waiting for her on the other side except what she hoped would be - and what had slowly morphed into - a promising career. She felt stable, now, but hadn’t realized how exhausting the fear had been originally. It felt like she’d been comfortable for decades now, but clearly her body still needed to recover. 

 

By month three, she was feeling like an upgraded version of her old self. She found it easier to meet people; easier to get up in the morning and go to work. Getting back into contact with people from her life pre-Alice and pre-Oscars was her next step, and once she was there, then came the lifestyle changes.

 

Drinks for weekends only, cooking at home twice a week, going for a run whenever she found a moment alone, weather permitting. She’d even started to look at cars - the new ranch house she’d bought was just far enough outside of the business of the city that she could wake up to peace and quiet in the mornings, but it did come with the added downside of a considerably more expensive commute. 

 

The phone call to Fallon had been an impulse decision. She’d gotten a little too cocky with all of her newfound inner strength and assumed she could play the game properly, but hearing her voice again had immediately shattered all of her defenses. While Kirby still felt confident that she could handle the new ultimatum, she had to admit that even their short conversation had left her daydreaming.

 

* * *

 

 

“Brought you a smoothie.” Kirby balanced her drink tray in one hand, clutching her phone and sweater in the other as she elbowed her way into the beauty trailer.

 

“Perfect.” Halfway through opening her brush rolls, Kirby’s makeup artist, Jess, whirled around and reached for the tray, helpfully setting it down on the empty station counter beside her. “How do you always do that?”

 

“Do what?” Kirby asked, glancing back over her shoulder from where she was hanging her sweater on the back of the door.

 

“Know when I was in too big of a rush to eat.”

 

Kirby chuckled, making her way over and leaning against the back of the chair.

 

“D’you want me to go get you something? They were putting out bagels when I rolled up.”

 

Jess waved a hand dismissively.

 

“It’s alright. This should hold me over, you’re an angel.” She picked up the smoothie and then turned Kirby’s chair around for her to sit. “What did you get up to yesterday?”

 

Kirby reached for her own smoothie and paused with it halfway to her mouth, before glancing up at the other woman almost guiltily.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing?” Jess seemed unconcerned, smiling as she started to shake up a bottle of toner against a cotton pad. “Well, I guess that’s what I’d do with an afternoon off, too.”

 

Kirby let her trail off, sipping her breakfast quietly and wondering why exactly she felt like she was hiding something. She and Jess had gotten close, but she wasn’t about to divulge all of her past drama with her unprompted.

 

She was pulled from her thoughts by a muffled call of _‘stepping up’_ from outside of the door, followed by the creak of the door opening again behind them.

 

Darcy came into her view through the reflection in the mirror, and Kirby lit up before pointing wordlessly to the remaining smoothie in the tray beside her.

 

“Morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, taking the remaining smoothie and then leaning over to kiss Kirby’s temple as Jess stepped away to grab her mixing palette. “We missed you yesterday afternoon.”

 

“I bet,” Kirby mused, smirking up at him as he took his seat in the chair next to hers. “I’m sure Kate wasn’t happy that you were stuck here all night.”

 

“I made it up to her,” Darcy promised, winking through the mirror and causing Kirby to mock-gag in reaction.

 

Kirby had only met Kate once - the first day that she’d dropped Darcy off on set before seeming to realize that his early morning call times weren’t worth her waking up the extra hour earlier just for a few extra minutes of time together. Kirby had loved her immediately - she was bright and funny and swore up and down that Kirby had been completely snubbed at the Oscars. They’d only been dating for a month, but she already seemed completely understanding of everything - Darcy said that she’d compromised by spending the nights that she didn’t have work in the mornings at his place, so they could have their coffee together before she crawled back into bed.

 

It sounded wonderfully domestic - something that Kirby didn’t really realize was possible when she pictured how her own future would go. When she’d finally become comfortable enough to picture what could have been with Alice, she realized that she had no idea where they would have been in six months, or a year, or five years. Neither of them seemed to have schedules that lined up, and both of them would have been travelling - she came to the conclusion that maybe dating wasn’t in the cards for her. At least not while she was working.

 

“What did you do?” Darcy asked conversationally, snapping Kirby out of her thoughts for a second time.

 

“She did nothing, apparently.”

 

Jess had answered for her, smiling when she caught her eye through the mirror as she returned and began scooping Kirby’s foundation out of its bottle.

 

“Well _that’s_ boring,” Darcy complained, reaching over and swatting Kirby’s arm before settling back into his own seat. “You didn’t have a hot date? No tall, dark, and handsome guy waiting for you in some dimly lit jazz cafe?”

 

The pause that hung in the air after he spoke felt crushingly heavy, or at least it did to Kirby, who, for the first time since she’d started working on _The Last Fire_ , was realizing that she had yet to disclose a particularly important fact about herself. 

 

It almost felt like it was too late to not be awkward, now.

 

“Nope, no man waiting,” she answered instead, smiling stiffly before turning her attention to Jess so that she could get started. 

 

She had thought about it, once she’d finished with her Oscar campaign - and rumours tried to circulate that she had been more than friends with Alice - if coming out would be the right choice. She’d already received the nomination without making an example of herself, which had been her main goal originally, but there was no reason to keep herself hidden now. Especially with what would now be her second large role under her belt - both of which had male love interests. She’d shown that she could play the part and get the nominations; now she just felt like she was being dishonest. 

 

Additionally, with zero interest in really dating anyone else, knowing that they’d have to be someone else in the industry who would understand her schedule, the added attention could make it impossible for her to ever have another innocent friendship again without speculation. 

 

She thought on it until she was called to set, and stumbled through her lines and cues before their director mercifully took pity on her and called for a break. Kirby found herself a quiet place to be alone, and then held her breath before checking her phone. No missed messages, no missed calls. 

 

No matter, she’d already decided she’d give Fallon a week - though trying to imagine the other woman lasting that long made her want to laugh. The tables had completely turned. Kirby was in control of all of it, now.

 

Still, it was weird that she hadn’t called.

 

Maybe she’d just text her once. Just to put the thought in her head.

 

 _No_. 

 

Shoving her phone away and heading back towards the lights, Kirby shook the thought from her mind and tried her best to focus on the rest of her work day.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” Darcy linked his elbow with Kirby’s as she walked towards him, stopping her from passing and whirling around to stop them in their tracks. “We’ve been _summoned_. Production office, lets go.”

 

Kirby groaned softly, shaking her arm free and rubbing her temples. 

 

“We’re already ahead of schedule - I can’t have set us back that far.”

 

“Maybe they just found someone more talented, pretty, and charismatic than you and they’ve decided to recast while we still have time,” he suggested, grinning when she broke into a small smile and smacked his shoulder.

 

“Do you know what it’s about?” Kirby asked, falling into step beside Darcy as he started to walk away.

 

“No clue. Why, you have something better to do?”

 

“I’m... waiting for a call,” Kirby replied slowly, glancing at her phone one more time before tucking it into her bag. Still nothing.

 

The walk seemed shorter than usual, for once, now that Kirby was nervous about what would be on the other end. She’d only filled in for the part at the last moment - her manager said that it would be a good opportunity to jump back into work quickly. Now, thinking that she’d maybe made a burden of herself, she felt almost nauseated with worry.

 

The office was stuffy - Kirby tried to focus on the sound of the floor fan oscillating in the corner instead of the way that the room was slowly filling with more executives as she and Darcy waited.

 

“So,” Kirby snapped her attention up to a man she’d never met before, who settled in at the desk and pulled his phone off of its cradle before dialing a few numbers. “Once I get your team on the line, we can get started.”

 

He pointed the phone at Kirby while he spoke, and she felt a fuzzy sort of ringing fill her ears suddenly as she watched him dial.

 

She blew it. She had 100% blown the entire deal, she’d probably never see any of the new friends that she’d made again, let alone work, and -

 

“Hi, how are you? I’m calling with Kirby to talk about a press opportunity regarding _The Last Fire_.”

 

Kirby blinked, sitting upright and side-glancing at Darcy, but he was staring straight ahead, focused.

 

 _“What kind of opportunity are we talking about?”_ Kirby heard her manager’s voice through the receiver and felt an instant, comforting tug at her heart. 

 

“As I’m sure both of you know,” the man addressed Kirby and Darcy, now, “There’s been a lot of static about the two of you. All of us thought that it might be lucrative to take advantage.”

 

Kirby wondered who ‘all of them’ were, but kept her mouth shut, processing everything silently. She felt Darcy shift in his seat beside her.

 

The room was thickly quiet for a moment, before she finally spoke first.

 

“What exactly does that mean?”

 

“They’re pimping us out,” Darcy answered, finally turning to her with a sly grin. “To sell movie tickets.”

 

“The movie sells itself.” Darcy’s manager, whom Kirby had only spoken to once - and it hadn’t been particularly pleasant - stepped forward from where he was leaning against a shelf behind the two of them. “This sounds more like taking advantage of speculation.”

 

“I… don’t want to do that,” Kirby breathed, frowning as she sat up straighter in her seat and looked around.

 

She expected Darcy to agree, but he dropped her gaze, fiddling with his hands.

 

“What do you think about this?” Kirby directed her attention to the phone’s speaker, instead.

 

Her manager was quiet, for a moment, before replying: _“This is on you, Kirby. I won’t ask you to do it if you don’t want to.”_

 

She felt warm again, relief washing over her.

 

“Look,” the man behind the desk spoke again. “We’ve got one of the best PR teams available. Not to mention, this could really help clear up everything else that you’ve had going on for the last year.”

 

The ringing returned to Kirby’s ears instantaneously, like her brain was trying to block out his words before she could hear them properly.

 

“What?” She felt the question fall breathlessly out of her, felt a lump suddenly make its home in her throat.

 

“Given the situation with your current press, it could help clean you up. Like I said - our PR is some of the best.”

 

Kirby was sure she could even hear her manager holding her breath.

 

“Right, well, I’ve _had_ the best PR,” Kirby managed to snap, despite the shakiness in her voice and legs, before standing up from her seat. “And I’d like to get a second opinion. When do you need an answer by?”

 

“As soon as possible,” Darcy’s manager answered for her, this time, but she felt her costar reassuringly touch the back of his knuckles to her leg where she stood next to him.

 

Glancing down at him, she almost smiled when he winked up at her, before picking her bag up and weaseling her way through the other executives blocking her path to the door.

 

Hopping into her rental and cranking up the volume on the radio as she started the car, Kirby sat in the parking lot for several minutes as she tried to decide her next move. She’d been so stupid to think that publicists lived on a morality spectrum that started with Jeff Colby and ended with Fallon Carrington.

 

Kirby knew she’d been a bit of a nightmare for Fallon more than once, but at least that woman had always had her best interests at heart - whether it was her career or her personal life.

 

She was halfway to Fallon’s condo before she realized where she was going, and quickly pulled over to the curb to talk some sense into herself.

 

It was nine o’clock on a Saturday. Fallon likely wasn’t even home, and if she was, she would undoubtedly still be busy working.. Still, she always made time for Kirby, especially whenever she was having some kind of career-based crisis, and this was basically a _professional_ meeting, anyway. She needed some _professional_ advice, and after all, working towards a more platonic relationship was in the cards, if everything else blew up.

 

The doorman let her in without a question - one of the superpowers that her newfound fame had given her was blind trust from strangers, which was at least helpful on occasion. She snuck into the elevator with a group of women that appeared to be returning home from the gym, and ignored their strange looks when she punched in Fallon's floor.

 

Frozen outside of Fallon’s door, Kirby considered her options one last time:

 

  1. Knock, and tell Fallon that she had made a mistake. She was sorry, and she needed help. Simple as that.
  2. Knock, and tell Fallon that she wanted to talk about their personal relationship - after, again, getting the professional help that she needed.
  3. Turn and run back down the hallway, get into the elevator, and wait for Fallon to phone her.



 

Taking a deep breath, Kirby closed her eyes and knocked, then waited.

 

A beat too long passed, and she was about to turn and leave when she heard the telltale sound of heels on the hardwood floor, before the door in front of her rattled and swung open.

 

She and Fallon stared at each other for a long moment before she finally spoke.

 

“Hey, sorry, I just needed to ask you -”

 

Fallon practically pulled her arm from its socket as she yanked her inside, shoving the door shut behind her and kissing her. 

 

Everything came flooding back to Kirby like it was muscle memory; like her body was going through the motions. She was gripping Fallon’s shirt before she even let her mind catch up to her hands, kissing her over and over as she slowly leaned in to press her against the door. It wasn’t until she realized how _soft_ it all was that she stopped. Taking inventory of the tiny desperate noises that Fallon was making between kisses, clenching one of her hands into a fist to avoid being too rough with her just because she was suddenly so overwhelmed with adoration - she missed her, she missed her, _she missed her_ -

 

“Whoa,” she breathed, pulling away sharply. “That… is not what I came here to ask you.”

 

Fallon’s chest rose and fell visibly as she caught her breath, staring at Kirby with so much intensity that she felt rooted to the spot. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were red - it took everything in Kirby’s power not to just continue this and get to the point of her visit later on. _Much_ later on.

 

“Why are you here, then?” Fallon’s voice was defensive, so Kirby scrambled to answer before she could shut her out again completely.

 

“I just - there was this thing, at work, with PR and Darcy, and I don’t really want to do it, and honestly, I doubt it’ll even be a good thing once it’s all over, but I wanted your opinion on if I should -”

 

Fallon cut her off.

 

“You think it’s a bad idea and you don’t want to do it and then you come over here and kiss me like _that_ and expect me to think this isn’t all some ridiculous excuse?” She gestured wildly at her, stepping closer. “What are you really doing here?”

 

Kirby swallowed hard, trying to relieve some of the sudden dryness in her throat.

 

“I don’t really know.”

 

“ _I_ know,” Fallon insisted. She looked like she was going to stay angry, for a moment, but then she stepped even closer still. “Come here.”

 

Kirby kissed her again before letting herself think too hard on it.

 

It was softer than every other time she’d ever kissed her, even including their greeting from moments before. Reaching up and shrugging off her own jacket between kisses, she stepped further inside and backed Fallon towards the living room couch, collapsing them both onto it before working her lips down from Fallon’s to her jaw instead. It was like she was seeing her and hearing her for the first time. The usual excited little thrill that she got out of their hotel trysts, shoving each other down and trying to make the other scream like they had something to prove - it was replaced by total awe.

 

There was such a heavy overtone of _relief_ in every movement the other woman made or sound that escaped her. Kirby couldn’t decide which she liked more - the blissful sounds that Fallon was so clearly comfortable with, or the ones that she seemed embarrassed of making as soon as she heard herself.

 

“We should move,” Kirby mumbled into her neck, kissing there apologetically when Fallon gasped and squirmed at the sudden shiver-inducing itch that she’d caused.

 

“Bedroom,” Fallon sighed back. 

 

Kirby sat up to give her room, chuckling at the sight of the other woman in a state of disheveled breathlessness. 

 

“What?” Fallon hissed.

 

Kirby raised her eyebrows, smirking. It made the other woman squirm again, averting her gaze as she sat up and tried to blindly fix her hair.

 

“Forget that,” Kirby brushed her hand away softly, and then took it in her own. She contrasted the soft gesture with playfully demanding words. “Upstairs. Now.”

 

Fallon hopped up, tugging Kirby’s hand as she led the way, grinning back over her shoulder at her before making her way up the stairs. For a moment, she paused, trying to freeze the image in her mind. It was one of those rare instances that she had a sudden clarity that she was absolutely never going to move on from this, despite how many different ways that she’d told herself she would. She could imagine scenarios of total professionalism, or even fantasize about platonic friendship - she could remind herself that Fallon was an entire other person, with her own motives, and feelings, and path, who could one day break her heart for any reason including her own amusement. None of those thoughts were powerful enough to keep her from feeling deliriously happy.

 

“Are you coming?” Fallon called, impatient.

 

Grinning, Kirby took the stairs two at a time and nearly chased the brunette into the bedroom, swinging the door shut behind them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains 2 explicit sex scenes. Both are indicated with bolded headers that indicate a flashback/timejump, if you'd like to skip past them for any reason! It should be perfectly easy to piece together without them, if need be.

Fallon glanced up from her tablet in time to see Kirby shuffle sleepily into the kitchen, yawning as she wiped at her eye.

 

“Morning, sunshine,” she greeted, smirking at the squinting glare that the redhead gave her. 

 

“Why are you awake at seven on a Sunday?” Kirby demanded, coming closer and reaching out for Fallon’s coffee mug. “You look like you barely slept, no offence.”

 

Swiping it away, the brunette took another sip from it and then nodded to the espresso machine on the counter.

 

“Make your own,” she chided, adding, “and seven is a perfectly acceptable time to be awake. I’m surprised _you’re_ up.”

 

“Why surprised?” Kirby asked as she opened each cupboard, searching for the mugs. She found them before Fallon could point her in the right direction, and made her way over to the coffee machine. “I get up earlier for work every day.”

 

“And today is your day off. I figured I had until at least noon before you rolled the rock away,” Fallon teased.

 

“Ha-ha,” Kirby replied sarcastically, coming over and pulling up another one of the stools at the island counter. “I stole some of your mouthwash, by the way.” 

 

Fallon snorted, setting down the tablet and turning to look at the other woman with one eyebrow raised. She had seen her morning-mess appearance more times than she’d like to admit, but something about her looked different this time. 

 

“I can give you a ride, if you need to get out of here,” Fallon promised, watching as Kirby sipped from her own mug and leaned closer to peer at the tablet she’d set down.

 

“I have a rental,” Kirby replied easily, glancing up at Fallon and smiling a little before raising an eyebrow. “Do _you_ need me out of here?”

 

Fallon shrugged.

 

“I have no plans. I just don’t want to keep you.”

 

“Good,” Kirby set her mug down. “Then, maybe we should talk.”

 

* * *

 

 

**TEN HOURS EARLIER**

 

“Impatient,” Kirby practically growled, but the grin on her face shot an exciting burst of adrenaline through Fallon and she found herself laughing nervously as she was backed toward the bed.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She reasoned, reaching out for the other woman. Kirby simply batted her hands away before grabbing her by the waist and wringing an embarrassing squeal out of her that she knew she wouldn’t live down under any other circumstances.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I feel like I’ve waited long enough,” Fallon managed, squeezing the words out between a fit of giggling that very quickly turned into a contented sigh when Kirby’s lips found her neck again.

 

“ _You’ve_ waited long enough,” Kirby repeated incredulously, her fingers blindly fiddling with the back of her skirt until she found the zipper. She didn’t follow up with a snarky comment, though, but instead lifted her head and kissed her again, tugging the zipper down.

 

Fallon had felt it from the first kiss when Kirby had come to her door, but things had changed. It was both terrifying and comforting; setting off her anxiety despite how urgent it felt to continue.

 

Nudging her towards the bed a little more, Kirby waited as the back of her legs collided with the mattress and she laid back, wriggling out of her skirt and watching as Kirby pulled her shirt up over her head, tossing it aside.

 

“I got you that shirt,” Fallon mused, watching it be kicked aside before propping herself up on her elbows. “Well, I mean…”

 

“I wasn’t going to throw it out just because I only got paid to wear it once,” Kirby scoffed. “It’s a perfectly good shirt.”

 

“Which is why you’re throwing it on the ground,” Fallon added.

 

Giving her a small glare, Kirby surged forward and kissed her again - almost roughly, this time, though Fallon could feel the way she held back. It was more playful than anything else, and just as she began to lean into it, ready to lose herself, the other woman broke away and held a finger up.

 

Staring at her, lost, Fallon watched as she took a few steps back and retrieved the shirt, picking it up mockingly-delicately before beginning to carefully shake it out and fold it. Rolling her eyes and trying not to laugh, she let out a frustrated noise.

 

“ _Okay_ , I get it.”

 

“No, no, you’re right,” Kirby sighed. “I should treat my things better.”

 

Fallon huffed a tiny stray hair from her face and did her best to fix her features into what she hoped was a withering glare. Kirby did a double take up at her and bit her lip, but it did nothing to stop the sudden wave of snickering she was seemingly overcome with.

 

“ _What_ is that face?”

 

“You’re _very_ annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

 

Kirby grinned, gently tossing the now-folded shirt onto the dresser and stepping closer to the bed. Nudging Fallon’s knees open with one of hers, she stood between her legs and then leaned over.

 

“You do. Constantly.” 

 

She tilted her chin up and kissed her, much more softly than before, and then pushed her to lay back, suddenly climbing onto the bed on top of her and straddling her waist.

 

Fallon’s breath caught in her throat and she stared up at the redhead silently for a moment, shakily coming to rest her hands on her thighs. 

 

“Are you okay?” Kirby asked, the playfulness dropping out of her voice to make room for concern.

 

Chuckling softly, Fallon nodded, clearing her throat.

 

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded hoarse, so she cleared her throat a second time before repeating, much more confidently, “Yes. I’m okay. More than okay. You should wear shorts more often.”

 

She squeezed both of her legs, causing her to jump and laugh, immediately breaking the tension.

 

“ _Hey_!” 

 

“I’m being serious!” Fallon insisted, feeling like the words were just falling out of her now. She knew it was a nervous action - the longer she kept talking, the longer it would be before they went too far and changed things too much. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff. She wanted so badly to kiss the other woman again; to get rid of the rest of their clothes and touch her, but it was different from the previous times that they’d had sex, and they both knew it.

 

Seeming to sense her trepidation to push for the next step, Kirby took it for her, sitting back against Fallon’s thighs and beginning to unbutton her shirt for her.

 

She wasted no time touching every inch of her exposed skin, fingers splaying out across her ribs and trailing down her waist. Fallon could tell that she must have been running hot because Kirby’s hands felt cold against her skin - but pleasantly so. It didn’t matter where she was touching her, but she couldn’t stay still or control the uneven pattern that her breathing had taken on. She almost felt embarrassed, so she reached up and fiddled with the other woman’s shorts in an attempt to take some of the pressure off of herself. She sighed in relief when Kirby slid off of her to lay next to her instead, kicking her shorts off and then turning to look at her.

 

Fallon rolled onto her side quickly and reached for her, kissing her again. So different from the constant battle for dominance and roughness that she was used to - whether it was with Kirby or anyone else - this felt almost odd. It felt scarily romantic, and she knew that the other woman felt it, too, kissing her over and over again while touching her like she was trying to map her out blindly. Fingers trailed over her shoulders and back, experimentally dipping into the waistband of her panties - slowly and shakily, like she was asking permission - before they vanished back up her spine. 

 

She didn’t realize until Kirby shifted, almost uncomfortably, how tightly she was holding onto her. Where Kirby’s actions were light, and gentle, Fallon found herself nearly digging her fingers into her skin, one hand at her hip and the other wrapped around her like she was hanging on for dear life.

 

She immediately loosened her grip, trying to forge some kind of a game plan. They’d been making out in silence for what felt like eons, but if Kirby was bothered by it, she didn’t show it. Trailing her own hand from her back in a slow looping circle around the jut of her shoulder blade, Fallon felt Kirby shift again, this time pulling away enough to chuckle.

 

“Sorry. It’s… been awhile.”

 

Fallon stared at her for a moment before the realization crashed over her that it had been three months - for both of them, apparently - but that the last person Kirby was with had probably been Alice. 

 

“Seriously,” Kirby’s face fell and she pulled back further, leaving Fallon suddenly cold everywhere that they’d been connected. “Are you sure you’re okay? That _this_ is okay?”

 

“Yes!” Fallon insisted, trying with no success to sound less frustrated than she felt. “It’s just... been awhile for me, too.”

 

Kirby face softened and then a smile very slowly appeared.

 

“Then I’ll just be extra careful.”

 

It was a reassurance, but it sounded like a playful threat, tracing up her back again as she slid closer. She was so quick it was almost overwhelming, darting her fingertips across her shoulders and down her arms to her wrists, her other hand pulling her closer.  Every gesture was so gentle it was almost tickling, making Fallon grin and squirm despite herself as she kissed her, hungrier than before.

 

“What’re you holding back for?” Kirby mumbled, pulling away just enough to speak. Catching her by surprise, she slid one hand up between her legs and held it still against the inside of her thigh and causing Fallon to let out a tiny startled sound under her breath before she could stop it.

 

Kirby chuckled and twitched her fingers, squeezing her leg softly before kissing her briefly. 

 

“I _know_ you’re louder than that.”

 

Fallon could feel her cheeks grow hot.

 

“Maybe that was theatrical for your benefit,” she suggested, but Kirby shook her head.

 

“No. We might’ve just been messing around, but I know you weren’t faking it.”

 

Her fingertips suddenly pressed against her, and she was so sensitized that she felt every detail of the lace of her panties against her skin. Shifting as subtly as possible to try to gain a little friction, Fallon shook her head slightly.

 

“No,” she admitted. “I wasn’t.”

 

“I didn’t think so.” Kirby grinned and then dipped her head, kissing down her jaw towards her neck.

 

Fallon hadn’t realized during their earlier trysts just how much the other woman had been paying attention to her. Though this time was new, she still had a mental map of every spot that made Fallon gasp or moan or laugh, and used the combination of all of them in perfect harmony to have her writhing underneath her, gripping at her waist desperately and trying to pull them closer to one another than physically possible.

 

The moment that Kirby’s hand flattened to her stomach and her fingers slid down below the waistband of her underwear, her eyes snapped open. As urgent as it all had seemed a moment ago, she’d been so caught up in just how nice the closeness had been that she’d forgotten about the reason for relocating to the bedroom in the first place. She let out a small, startled laugh at the first wave of sensation, feeling warmth replace what should have been embarrassment at her own reaction when Kirby laughed with her, burying her face back into her neck.

 

“This okay?” She asked, her voice vibrating just under her ear and making Fallon shiver pleasantly.

 

Worried about what other undignified noise would escape her if she opened her mouth again, she just nodded in response, sliding one hand up the other woman’s back towards her bra and fiddling hintingly at the clasp of it.

 

Sitting up and reaching behind her with both hands to undo it herself, Kirby chuckled again when Fallon made a whine of protest under her breath and wriggled closer to her before sitting up herself and surging forward to kiss her.

 

Laughing outright, now, Kirby barely managed to wrestle her own bra off before she was shoved back against the pillows.

 

“Geez, Fallon, I just need one secon-” 

 

She trailed off, her giggling turning into a sound of disbelief and then a sigh, sliding her hands around Fallon’s waist and pulling her closer. Chewing her lip, Fallon shakily slid her hands up from her waist to her ribcage just below her breasts, hesitating before sliding one up and brushing her thumb over her nipple.

 

Kirby stayed absolutely still and it made Fallon even more tense, like she was being supervised on a job for which  she had absolutely no experience. The two of them had done this a thousand and one times; there was no reason for her to start feeling on edge now.

 

“Are we going too fast?” Kirby asked her.

 

Groaning in frustration - and apparently tightening her grip on reflex, if the other woman’s gasp of protest was any indicator - Fallon shook her head.

 

“Stop asking. Shut up.”

 

Kirby’s eyebrows shot up, and then she laughed, the sound pulling Fallon’s lips into a smile before she could help herself.

 

“ _Shut up_ ?” She repeated. “Shut _up?_ You’re lucky you’re cute,” Kirby faux-threatened.

 

“Or what?” Fallon taunted before she could even consider the consequences.

 

She let out an undignified shriek of laughter when the redhead grabbed her by the hips and flung her down onto the bed beside her with a little bounce against the plush of the mattress and duvet.

 

She didn’t answer Fallon’s question, but instead pinned her hands down, diving in and kissing her neck with surprisingly playful aggression. It was pleasant, but overwhelming, pulling even further undignified giggling out of her until she was breathless and Kirby had moved on from her neck, down her chest towards her stomach. 

 

“This doesn’t seem like a particularly effective punishment,” Fallon breathed, trying to sound playful despite the shake in her voice.

 

“Who needs to shut up, now?” Kirby lifted her head just enough to ask before nipping surprisingly hard at the jut of the bottom of her ribcage. She either didn’t hear - or mercifully ignored - the squeak that Fallon let out in response. 

 

Propping herself up on her elbows on either side of her hips, and beginning to hike her panties down slowly, Kirby continued: “Do you have to fill _every_ silence? I bet you fidget, too.”

 

As if to prove her point, she kissed a slow line down the crease of her thigh, causing Fallon to reflexively grip the sheets between her fists.

 

“Okay,” Kirby hummed, “One last time. This is _for sure_ what you want?”

 

She was intentionally being a tease, now, and Fallon knew it, but she kept her snark and frustration to herself, nodding frantically instead.

 

“Please.”

 

“Good.”

 

She didn’t waste any more time, sliding her arms under and around Fallon’s legs and gently spreading them further with her hands. Leaning in and kissing her once, like a warning, she pulled herself closer and slid her tongue inside of her. 

 

Squeezing her eyes shut so hard that she saw stars dance on the backs of her eyelids, Fallon groaned softly and loosened her grip on the sheets with one hand to reach out and bury her fingers into the other woman’s hair encouragingly. 

 

She worked quietly for a moment, seeming to let Fallon’s pressure on the back of her head guide her until Fallon felt her legs being pulled closer, Kirby’s hair tickling the insides of her thighs. There was only a brief moment of confusion before she realized what she was doing: pulling her leg closer so that she could in turn inch her hand closer and slide one finger experimentally over her clit.

 

Legs shaking, Fallon squeezed her eyes shut and tried to find the balance between enjoyment and franticness, but knew that the three-month-long dry spell was not on her side as far as keeping her from finishing too quickly was concerned.

 

Moaning almost helplessly when none of her mental gymnastics helped to distract her, Fallon gripped the other woman’s hair almost roughly, but was only rewarded with her lifting her head to laugh.

 

“What happened to not holding back?” She asked quietly, lifting her hand away from her clit and squirming to free her arm from where she’d coiled it around Fallon’s leg. “You know, we have all night.”

 

She toyed with her while she spoke, brushing the fingertips of her now free hand feather-light over her, slipping hintingly across her opening but never applying pressure. 

 

Squirming in frustration, Fallon hissed out, “So what’s the rush?”

 

“Because the sooner I make you cum,” Kirby explained, her voice mockingly casual and calm, like she were discussing setting a meeting time, or where they should order lunch from, “I can make you cum a second time. Maybe a third; we can see how you’re feeling.”

 

Warning her with another tiny kiss, this time just a fraction above her clit, Kirby unassumingly slid a single digit inside of her, chuckling when Fallon bucked her hips forward and groaned.

 

“I have a feeling this one is going to have you out for the count, for a bit, though.”

 

Sliding a second finger inside of her, Kirby stopping taunting her altogether and flattened her tongue to her clit, her other hand tightening warningly around her thigh when she tried to twist her hips and gain more friction.

 

Kirby slowly started to work against her, finding a steady rhythm but then letting the other woman choose the tempo. Fallon’s body was warring against her mind as she inwardly screamed at herself to slow down even as she rolled her hips against Kirby’s hand and pressed herself further down onto her.

 

When Kirby’s free hand began lazily tickling a path up the inside of her thigh, the noise of protest she made could only be defined as a squeak.

 

“Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut again and felt her muscles slowly tensing, starting from her feet and then up her legs towards her stomach. “That is… _so_ unfair.”

 

“Aw, I know.” Kirby sounded sympathetic, like she was coaxing her into relaxing, but she broke up her words by lapping at her and continuing to touch her. Pulling her other fingers out of her, she pushed Fallon’s legs open and began teasing the other thigh, and Fallon was _sure_ she felt her smiling against her as she let out another broken moan.

 

Her orgasm took her by surprise - she’d known it was close, but thinking that she had another moment, at least, she tried to prop herself up on her elbows and adjust, but the tightness in her stomach suddenly exploded outward and caused her to fall back again comfortably. Between pants and gasps, she laughed hoarsely in disbelief, her only clarity being to remind herself not to accidentally pull any of the other woman’s hair out during her efforts to drag her closer to her.

 

Kirby sat up a little and smoothed her hands over her thighs, trying to help relieve any leftover tingling, and Fallon pushed her hair back from her face to sigh.

 

“That was a let down.”

 

“What!” Kirby laughed out loud, sitting up the rest of the way to look at her in shock.

 

“I told you I didn’t want to rush!” Fallon insisted, propping herself up on her elbows - successfully, this time -  and trying to catch her breath.

 

“Well, like I said, there’s plenty more where that came from,” Kirby reminded her, her hand darting from the inside of her thigh to roll her thumb over her clit.

 

“Agh - _NO!_ ” 

 

Reaching quickly for her, Fallon grabbed Kirby’s wrist, trying to simultaneously shove her away and squeeze her legs shut, her disjointed protests dissolving into laughter for the first few seconds that she wasn’t successful. Her post-orgasm sobering clarity had her mentally attribute it to a cross between hitting her funny bone and accidentally turning a vibrator up too high. 

 

The second thought of clarity was that she was going to need clean sheets - and a shower.

 

Kirby pulled away from her, giggling, and then leaned over to kiss her again.

 

“Three months is a long time,” she reasoned, but Fallon knew she was just worried that she’d genuinely embarrassed her. “Plus, I bet you’d thought I’d forgotten that spot.”

 

She was right - she _had_ forgotten just how quickly Kirby had figured her out when they’d started sleeping together. It should have been the first sign that it had meant something more to Kirby than she’d let on. 

 

“I think you just have a whole section of your brain devoted to remembering things that drive me crazy.” 

 

Fallon grinned when Kirby crawled up the bed, closer to her, and then stretched out beside her, tangling their bare legs together. 

 

“Maybe,” Kirby hummed, dropping one hand to her stomach and tracing back and forth across her skin absentmindedly. 

 

Closing her eyes and feeling like she could sink into the bed and fall asleep just like this, Fallon stretched out a little and then twisted closer to give the other woman better access.

 

“So I’m thinking, shower, we go again, then maybe a snack.” Kirby’s voice broke her out of her relaxed state, and she fluttered her eyes open to look at her.

 

“How about we go again _in_ the shower,” Fallon suggested.

 

Gasping dramatically, Kirby leaned over and kissed her.

 

“You’re _so_ smart.”

 

“That’s why I’m the best,” Fallon hummed, catching Kirby’s hand as she traced a looping circle around her navel, and gently dropping it back to the bed as she sat up.

 

“I’d hope that suggesting shower sex isn’t why you’re so popular and successful,” Kirby mused, sitting up herself and gasping in mock-pain when Fallon swatted harmlessly at her leg.

 

“Shut up, and get up,” she ordered. “Shower. It’s your turn.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What exactly did you want to talk about?” Fallon stirred her coffee absentmindedly and then glanced up at Kirby - only briefly - before dropping her eyes back to the countertop.

 

She could feel Kirby staring at her, giving her the disbelieving look that she could recognize from the sudden tension in the room without even looking up.

 

“We could start with last night, unless you had something else on your mind.”

 

Finally lifting her gaze to the other woman properly, Fallon steeled herself for the worst.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Kirby sighed. She leaned forward on the countertop and got more comfortable on her seat, wrapping both of her hands around her own mug. “Don’t act like you don’t have anything to say.”

 

“What!” Fallon practically whined, hearing her own tone and reeling it back in. “I don’t - I don’t know what you want me to say. _You_ should be the one talking - especially after you came over here, not even for… _that_.”

 

“I just want to know what you want,” Kirby said simply. There was something more confident about her, now - a sort of resigned, if not still positive, air of being straightforward that hadn’t been there before the two of them had parted ways the last time. 

 

“And what do _you_ want?” Fallon asked. “Because you certainly had no idea what it was last night until you got here.”

 

If she’d hurt the other woman’s feelings, she didn’t show it. Shrugging instead, Kirby answered simply:

 

“ _You_ seemed to know, though.”

 

Fallon pushed the last dregs of her coffee aside with a sigh.

 

“It was my job for a long time to know what you wanted. To know _you_. It’s not something you just purge overnight.”

 

Kirby was watching her, again, probably looking for a crack in her defenses, so she continued.

 

“I know what you want out of this, too.”

 

“And what’s that?” Kirby sounded almost amused, if not a little patronizing.

 

Fallon sighed, leaning her weight on her elbows as she mulled it over for a moment.

 

“Being around someone that knows you. Who is… concerned for your well being. That you can sleep with.”

 

Kirby snorted.

 

“You missed a few, but…”

 

Fallon stood up from her seat and took a few steps around the corner of the counter, closer to Kirby, and reached for her.

 

“I know what you want, because I know you,” she insisted. “We both know it.”

 

She leaned in and kissed her temple, feeling a victorious little jolt of excitement when Kirby turned to kiss her properly. 

 

Cupping the side of her face and brushing her thumb over her cheek, she leaned into the kiss and smiled when Kirby’s hands slid up to anchor her closer by hanging onto her hips.

 

“The thing is,” Kirby mumbled as she pulled away, eyes flicking back and forth between Fallon’s, “Is that I know you, too. Not as well as I’d like to. But I’d like to work on it.”

 

Fallon closed her eyes and pulled her in again, kissing her a little more roughly than before, tasting the overpriced espresso, the hint of mint under everything, even the medicinal undertone from her lip balm. The last twelve hours had been eye-opening - she felt like every single detail was so much clearer and brighter than before.

 

“Fallon, I mean it.” Kirby pulled back again after a moment, though the resolve in her voice was cut down a little by the way she stared at the brunette’s lips while she spoke to her.  “I… really like you.”

 

“You don’t know me,” Fallon reminded her, but she still felt a sudden resurgence of butterflies in her stomach at the other woman’s words. 

 

“I know a little,” Kirby shot back, “and like I said. I want to know more.  Don’t… try to shut me, or this, out again. You practically went insane last time.”

 

Her last words were teasing, and despite the uncomfortable pressure that she could feel building up in her chest, it made Fallon smile the tiniest little bit. Kirby caught it, though, squeezing her hips and drawing her a little bit closer.

 

“Last night was amazing.”

 

Letting go of Fallon altogether when her own phone rang in the other room, Kirby’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall and she groaned.

 

“Shit. I’m supposed to be at a meeting.”

 

“On a _Sunday_?” Fallon couldn’t help but whine, watching the other woman finish her coffee quickly and then slide down from the stool. “You’d better be getting overtime.”

 

Kirby chuckled.

 

“You’re not my manager,” she pointed out.

 

“Well, that hasn’t stopped you from expecting me to be, before,” Fallon pointed out. 

 

Kirby put her mug in the sink and then whirled around, striding over to her and startling her by pulling her in to kiss her one more time.

 

“You’re not getting out of this conversation. I’ll call you when I’m done, since you _have no plans._ ”

 

Inwardly kicking herself for leaving her schedule vulnerably open, Fallon watched as she vanished out of the kitchen, presumably to retrieve the rest of her clothes from upstairs.

 

She was still standing alone in the kitchen in shock when Kirby returned, just finishing applying her lipstick as she made her way over.

 

“Don’t -” she started to protest, groaning when the other woman pressed a kiss to her temple and squeezed her hand.

 

“I’ll call you.” Kirby reminded her one last time, her eyes flicking from Fallon’s own up to her forehead before smirking and turning on her heel to let herself out.

 

“Go,” Fallon hissed. “You’re already late.”

 

* * *

 

 

**NINE HOURS EARLIER**

 

“Whoa.” Kirby stopped dead in her tracks as she stepped into the en-suite bathroom, causing Fallon to bump into her back and groan softly.

 

“Hey… move it.” Pinching the back of her thigh and causing the redhead to nearly jump out of her skin, Fallon pushed her along, further into the room, and reached behind herself to fiddle with her bra clasp.

 

“This bathroom is ridiculous,” Kirby breathed, her head tilting back as she followed the wall up to the skylight on the ceiling. Her gaze dropped back to the shower and she gasped out loud. “This  _ shower _ is ridiculous.”

 

Not even waiting for Fallon, she slid the door open and stepped inside, marvelling at the wall of steamers.

 

“I’m going to live in here,” Kirby told her, her voice muffled by the glass. With both hands pressed to it, she watched Fallon through the door and grinned when the brunette simply rolled her eyes at her.

 

“You’d get wrinkly. And gross.” 

 

“I can’t hear you,” Kirby insisted, louder now. Fallon winced, tossing her bra aside and laughing when Kirby immediately swung the door back open to pull her inside.

 

“Forgetting something?” Fallon mumbled as she was pulled to stand chest-to-chest with her.

 

Not giving her time to react, she snapped the waistband of Kirby’s own underwear and grinned when she yelped in response.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Take them off,” Fallon warned, sliding away from her to head over to the knobs and prepare to turn on the water.

 

“This seems a little unfair,” Kirby mused, stepping out of the offending garment as Fallon turned her back to her again. “I at least  _ romanced _ you out of your clothes.”

 

Before she could continue to complain, Fallon gripped the removable showerhead and sprayed a long stream of water experimentally at her ankles and feet, grinning to herself when she was rewarded by another squeal of complaint.

 

_ “Cold!” _

 

Hanging up the head once more as she adjusted the temperature, Fallon stepped backwards under the stream and held her hands out for the other woman to come closer.

 

“I can tell,” she commented, sliding one hand around her back and using the other to roll one of her nipples between two fingers. 

 

Suddenly out of complaints, Kirby leaned in and kissed her, pushing her out of the stream and gently against the wall behind them. 

 

Only breaking away to step back into the water properly, Kirby closed her eyes and tilted her head back, working her fingers into her hair and soaking it through, chuckling when Fallon’s other hand found her other breast.

 

“That’s awfully distracting,” she commented.

 

“We’re multitasking. I know that’s more my forte than yours, but I could teach you.” Fallon leaned in and doused her own hair, kissing the other woman’s collarbone and then working her way down to her chest.

 

“Don’t be snarky,” Kirby hummed. “I’ll get soap in your eyes.”

 

The threat made Fallon laugh, the sound echoing in the giant shower stall. Kirby grinned at her and kissed her quiet, mumbling “I love that” against her lips when she pulled away.

 

“Hm.” Fallon felt a blush heating up her cheeks but ignored it, pulling away fully to grab her shampoo, offering it to the other woman.

 

Pouring a tiny bit into her palm, Kirby rubbed her hands together and then beckoned Fallon closer with one finger, handing the bottle back to her before gently working the shampoo into her scalp.

 

“ _ I’m _ supposed to be taking care of  _ you _ , remember?” She practically purred, closing her eyes and shivering pleasantly before fully leaning into the other woman.

 

“In a minute,” Kirby hummed, burying her fingers fully into Fallon’s hair and scratching along her scalp with the perfect amount of pressure to make the brunette feel like her eyes were going to roll into the back of her head.

 

Fallon clutched the bottle in both hands, needing something to relieve some of the pent-up squirminess that Kirby’s hands were instilling in her.

 

“I always loved this smell,” Kirby mused, leaning in closer and swiping a stray stream of suds off of Fallon’s forehead as they threatened to slide down her face towards her eyes. “I didn’t realize what it was until now.”

 

“What, my hair?” Fallon squinted one eye open, causing the other woman to giggle.

 

“Yeah. Your shampoo. Rinse.” She let go of Fallon, who let out a quiet disappointed sound, but leaned back nonetheless. Kirby took the bottle she was holding to refill her palms and began to scrub it into her own hair.

 

“I could have done that,” Fallon pointed out.

 

Kirby shrugged, smiling a tiny bit. “You’re supposed to be rinsing. We should multitask if we’re going to have sex in here before we turn into prunes.”

 

Fallon chuckled, closing her eyes and leaning back into the water once more. 

 

“The steam helps,” she promised, reaching back blindly as she rinsed and slapping the panel closest to her. The stall began to slowly flood with steam, and Kirby groaned in appreciation.

 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m never leaving.”

 

Fallon stepped back out of the water and reached for her bath sponge, leaving Kirby alone as she filled it with body wash.

 

“Conditioner?” Kirby requested, blindly holding a hand out with her eyes closed, but Fallon just pushed it aside, stepping closer.

 

“In a minute.” 

 

Kissing the redhead’s shoulder, she linked their fingers together and rolled the soft sponge up her arm from her wrist, leaving a thick trail of bubbles in its wake. 

 

Not waiting for her to finish, Kirby slid her now-sudsed up arm around the brunette’s waist and pulled her close, chuckling when the sudden action of them pressing together squeezed a miniature explosion of bubbles out of the sponge.

 

“Now who’s being distracting?” Fallon chided quietly, squeezing more bubbles out into her hands and then moving one slickly up Kirby’s back, stopping at her shoulders to turn her pressure almost massage-like. “Will you  _ hold still? _ ”

 

Her own skin felt extra-sensitized, though, from the combination of the steam and the earlier scalp massage, so she couldn’t blame Kirby for beginning to lose her composure, visibly coming undone in front of her.

 

Pulling the last of the bubbles out of the sponge, Fallon dropped it to the shower floor and kicked it aside, pulling Kirby closer to her and touching her everywhere that she could reach, sliding her hands up her back and shoulders, down to her waist and past her ass to the backs of her thighs. 

 

Kirby dropped her head and kissed her, slinging her arms around her shoulders and leaning against her. She was clearly trying to be gentle, but her stance was shaky and Fallon continued to feel her amp up her urgency in each kiss before stopping herself and starting over. 

 

It was a surprisingly empowering feeling, having the woman that had (only partially knowingly) driven her completely out of her mind for the last few months practically grinding against her, and despite how long she’d been waiting for it, Fallon still didn’t want to rush it.

 

“Turn.”

 

She broke the kiss to sharply demand the other woman move, loosening her grip on her to press one hand against her hip and guide her to turn around and face the wall.

 

Immediately pressing herself to her back once she turned, Fallon wrapped one arm around Kirby’s waist and hooked her fingers on the jut of her hip bone, the other hand sliding up her ribs and around to cup one of her breasts.

 

Gasping and bracing herself against the wall with one arm, Kirby turned to look back at the brunette, who simply kissed her cheek and then let one nail trace around her nipple, gliding effortlessly over her skin.

 

“Whenever you’re done multitasking, you just let me know,” Fallon told her, pressing kisses along her shoulder as her other hand slid up, seeking out her other breast.

 

Letting out a tiny, breathless laugh of disbelief, Kirby nodded quickly, and then cleared her throat.

 

“I think - I think now.”

 

Fallon pressed her lips to her shoulder again, as if considering, and then pointed around her and up at the showerhead.

 

“Hand me that, would you?”

 

Kirby lifted one arm to the showerhead before stopping.

 

“What’re you -”

 

“Please and thank you,” Fallon added, a little more sternly, grinning into the back of Kirby’s shoulder when her tone seemed to startle her into grabbing it and pulling it down.

 

The steam surrounding them made up for the lack of warmth when they were suddenly no longer being consistently enveloped in hot water, and Fallon maneuvered the handle of the showerhead around until she had a solid grip, before beginning to hose off the remaining bubbles she’d covered the other woman in.

 

She tried not to laugh at her squirming, holding Kirby tightly to her chest to keep her still as she slowly and methodically rinsed her off, section by section, watching the bubbles swirl around at their feet before slipping away towards the drain in the corner.

 

_ “Fallon.”  _ Kirby’s voice, almost reduced to a hiss, cut through the sound of running water, and she dropped her head back and reached out to grab the showerhead that Fallon was aiming at her.

 

“Ah ah,” Fallon pulled it a little further from her lazy reach, shooting water up her stomach to her chest, causing her to groan in protest. “You said you were done multitasking.”

 

“But you’re being a tease,” Kirby pointed out.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Fallon frowned, then tucked her chin onto Kirby’s shoulder. “Let me just -”

 

Pushing her knee between Kirby’s legs, she pushed them open further, aimed the water stream between them, and then bit back her laughter at the redhead’s shriek of a reaction.

 

Kirby’s hand that wasn’t bracing her against the wall immediately shot down to grab at the showerhead again, and this time Fallon let her, giving her a moment to breathe before deciding her next move.

 

“Now I know why you have this shower,” Kirby all but panted, both of them chuckling before Fallon dropped her other hand and squeezed her ass.

 

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon.”

 

“I needed a warning,” Kirby laughed, but she turned her head over her shoulder to grin at the brunette before steadying her stance and guiding her hand - and the showerhead - back towards her. 

 

For a while, the only sound was the water and the steamers, almost loud enough combined to drown out the sound of Kirby’s quiet but ragged breathing. Pulling her wet hair aside to kiss the side of her neck, Fallon closed her eyes and held her as closely as she could, taking in the combination of her own shampoo and the actress’s perfume that hadn’t all been quite rinsed off in their rush.

 

She brought her free hand back up to the other woman’s chest again, feeling the new hitch in her breath before she heard it. Fallon was suddenly aware of how late it was, and was glad she had nowhere to be in the morning. 

 

She could definitely do this again, though. If not first thing the next morning, then maybe the next time that their mornings off lined up. While her focus was still on making the woman in front of her cum, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to when they’d be able to do this again - and what it would be like. 

 

Kirby’s ragged breathing had slowly morphed itself into moaning, reaching behind herself with her free hand to bury her fingers messily in Fallon’s hair while she continued to mouth along the side of her neck and jaw.

 

“Yeah?” Fallon asked, and even though the other woman hadn’t said a word, she nodded frantically in answer.

 

Unbracing herself from the wall, the actress covered Fallon’s hand on the showerhead with her own, pulling it closer to herself as she tipped over the edge, gasping loudly between incoherent exclamations.

 

Dropping the showerhead as she watched the other woman come down, Fallon let it spray water aimlessly around the shower floor while she turned her around to kiss her one more time.

 

“That was… not what I was expecting when you suggested sex in the shower.” Kirby gently rested her head back against the shower wall and closed her eyes, chest heaving.

 

“Well, I’m nothing if not innovative.” Fallon grinned and retrieved the showerhead, reaching up to tuck it back into its cradle above them.

 

Chuckling breathlessly, Kirby lifted one arm to run a hand through her hair and groaned in frustration.

 

“Still have to condition.”

 

“Right.” Fallon sidestepped away from her and pulled the bottle down from its shelf, pouring a generous amount into her hands before stepping back over to the other woman and beginning to thread it into the ends of her hair.

Not going to protest being pampered, Kirby closed her eyes again and sighed.

“I might be too tired for that snack.”

“We can just go to bed,” Fallon suggested, not even thinking about the implications until the words were out of her mouth.

Kirby’s eyes popped back open in surprise as Fallon wordlessly let go of her hair and reupped the amount in her hands, beginning to work it through her own hair next.

“Yeah?” she asked. “...Here?”

Turning away from the brunette, she stepped under the stream and rinsed, glancing back over her shoulder when Fallon didn’t immediately answer.

“Of course here. It’s nearly midnight, did you think I’d kick you out?”

Kirby didn’t answer, and Fallon mentally kicked herself for even reminding her that that used to be commonplace between the two of them.

“Bed sounds good,” Kirby replied a moment later. “I think you wore me out.”

Fallon laughed quietly at that, nudging her out of the way to rinse her own hair before shutting off both the water and steamers. 

Kirby was immediately shivering when the pair of them stepped out of the stall, and Fallon couldn’t blame her. It felt freezing compared to the almost overwhelming heat that they’d just been in, so she quickly reached for her fresh towels, affectionately wrapping one around Kirby’s shoulders like a cape before getting her own.

Kirby led the way back into the bedroom this time, clearly eager to dive under the thick duvet and warm up. Too tired to wait for her hair to completely dry, Fallon pulled her wardrobe open and slipped into a chemise, turning around in time to see the redhead pull her shirt from earlier back over her head and then wriggle into the sheets comfortably.

“I love this bed,” Kirby groaned as Fallon slid in beside her. 

“Me too, that’s why I bought it,” Fallon replied, pleasantly surprised when Kirby’s arm slid automatically around her waist, yanking her closer.

“Good luck getting me out of it ever again.”

Feeling a wave of affection wash over her, Fallon grinned in response and snuggled up even closer, before replying,

“I could probably live with that.”


	25. Chapter 25

Kirby felt unfocused and giddy for her entire drive to the production office. She momentarily considered that she probably shouldn’t have even been on the road in her state, and it took all of her power not to speed through stop signs and weave in and out of traffic to get there quicker. 

 

She was breaking her down. She  _ knew _ she was breaking her down.

 

That hadn’t been just sex, and spending the night wrapped around each other in Fallon’s bed hadn’t been meaningless, either. 

 

As much of her crush - which, yes, she’d finally admitted what it was - had been uninformed, if their night together had been any indication of what was to come, it was the only thing that Kirby wanted.

 

It was risky, betting that the other woman would come around. But for what felt like the hundredth time, when it came to Fallon, she was ready to take the risk. She didn’t  _ need _ a relationship with her; she had a growing career, she was making new friends, and things seemed to finally be on track again. Fallon would just be the icing on the cake, and Kirby knew that she needed to act quickly if she wanted to give herself any fighting chance.

 

Still, it felt weird to be at work on a day off. 

 

It was like walking into an abandoned ruin, passing by empty offices down the hall, the only sound being the occasional bubbling from the water cooler and the low-grade manual air conditioning whirring in the distance. 

 

Muffled voices slowly began to accompany the slightly spooky ambience as Kirby approached the office she was summoned to, and she felt herself growing shaky and unsure for the first time that day. All of the confidence she’d had with Fallon that morning before she left her place was slipping away and being replaced with doubt.

 

What if turning this down pissed them off? Enough to recast her? Enough to make her life hell for the rest of the shoot? Enough to start rumours that she was difficult?

 

Knocking on the open door frame, Kirby stepped into the view of what appeared to be a much more intimate gathering than the previous meeting. 

 

Darcy held a coffee cup out to her as she was beckoned inside toward one of the other empty seats. 

 

“Morning, gorgeous,” he greeted, nudging her arm with his own once she had made herself comfortable.

 

She tried to smile in response, glancing up when one more executive joined them, closing the door almost fully behind him. He left it open just a little, as if setting up an easy escape route. Kirby felt grateful for the extra airflow, feeling cramped almost immediately. Darcy’s manager fixed her with a glare from across the room, and she wished she had her own team with her.

 

The moment that the thought of Fallon crossed her mind, though, a sort of clarity hit her. The nerves seemed to dissipate, and she felt the confidence she’d been trying to hang on to earlier returning. It was all worth it.  _ Fallon _ was worth it. 

 

“You’re alone?” The executive behind the desk glanced at Kirby as he typed away on his phone before setting it aside.

 

She nodded, leaning back in her seat and trying to convey an energy of ‘cool’ as best she could. 

 

“We’ll call your manager,” the exec at the desk offered, reaching for the phone, but Kirby shook her head.

 

“I’m sort of in a hurry. Let’s just get this over with.”

 

The air in the room seemed to shift, like everyone else was starting to understand what stance she was about to take.

 

Darcy watched her carefully, a knowing glint in his eye, but he stayed quiet, turning his gaze from her back to his own manager, who appeared to be ready to combust at any moment. 

 

“I’m not doing it.”

 

“Kirby-” It was Darcy’s manager that spoke first, and the sound of his voice made her skin crawl. 

 

“No,” she hummed, quietly, dismissively. She could practically feel his anger at her tone from across the room, but she held her ground. “I can’t. I have other obligations, sorry.”

 

“Other obligations,” the executive behind the desk repeated.

 

“Romantic obligations,” she clarified.

 

Darcy nudged her again, softly, and she flicked just her eyes to him before looking up at his manager once more. 

 

“I’m… trying to start a new relationship, and the timing of all of this drama just wouldn’t help,” she explained, ignoring the way he simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in response. “I’m really excited about it.”

 

Turning her attention to the desk, instead, Kirby shrugged.

 

“Sorry. Can’t do it.”

 

“It wouldn’t have to be long-term. Or particularly intensive, either.” She was already tuning the executive’s words out, taking a sip from her coffee and realizing it was much less satisfying than the fresh espresso from Fallon’s kitchen that morning.

 

“I don’t have the time.”

 

“You’d be compensated.”

 

“I  _ said _ ,” Kirby repeated, feeling her frustration grow as her voice grew more stern, “I don’t have the time. I have time to come and shoot the movie I was hired for, and then I’m going to take my very limited time that I have to myself and go home to spend time with my actual girlfriend, not whatever this is supposed to be.”

 

She gestured between herself and Darcy, sipping her coffee again as the room fell into a thick silence - even the people walking past the open door in the hallway behind her seemed to be quieter, now, the room growing warmer.

 

“What…?”

 

Glancing from man to man, she lowered her paper coffee cup from her face and frowned before a creeping realization hit her.

 

Well, better late (and accidentally) than never.

 

“I’m gay.”

 

The second the words were out of her mouth, Darcy’s manager stepped forward, one hand out like he was trying to physically block her words from coming any closer to him.

 

“You don’t have to -”

 

“I’m  _ gay _ ,” she repeated, suddenly louder. Her cheeks felt hot, and the palms of her hands were prickling as if they’d been falling asleep. “El homo.  _ Lesbienne _ . No men.”

 

Darcy sighed quietly beside her, and she felt guilty for both her outburst and for not telling him sooner.

 

“Did no one else realize that?” She asked, feeling spurred on despite the guilt. “God, I really  _ was _ snubbed for that Oscar.”

 

She stood up, tossing her mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can closest to her, and then squeezed Darcy’s shoulder.

 

“I’ll see you on set tomorrow.” 

 

Turning her attention to the other men in the room, she raised an eyebrow, flicking her gaze between each of them.

 

“We’re done here, right?”

 

She turned and pulled the cracked door the rest of the way open, and only allowed everyone a quick moment of stunned silence before she left without an answer.

 

* * *

 

 

Too caught up in the adrenaline rush from her meeting, Kirby didn’t bother texting Fallon to let her know that she was on her way back. Halfway through her drive, she noticed that she didn’t even have her phone, which she could clearly picture still sitting on Fallon’s living room coffee table in her mind. 

She realized, as she headed through the lobby towards the bank of elevators, that she wouldn’t be able to get in without the key fob, but as she made her way over to the front desk, the woman behind it seemed to recognize her.

“I’m looking for Fallon Carrington. She’s only half-expecting me.”

“You can just head up,” the receptionist insisted.

“No, that’s okay, if you could just call her, I think I left my phone up there earlier.” Kirby frowned a little, fiddling with one of her fingers and resisting the urge to chew on her cuticles.

The receptionist waved a hand.

“Then it’s fine. I’ll unlock the elevator.”

Not bothering to protest anymore, Kirby simply flung her hands up in defeat and then made her way over to the bank of elevators, letting herself in and then punching in Fallon’s floor.

The music had always been background noise, but Kirby noticed for the first time that it was Alice’s voice singing to her through the speakers. Also for the first time, she realized that it made her feel light, and happy. Her heart swelled a little and she thought back to their last night together with fondness instead of sadness. 

_ “You manifest what you’re going to do and then it happens. At least in some universe, it does.” _

Steeling herself as the doors opened, Kirby marched down the hall to Fallon’s door, knocking twice sharply before grabbing the knob and letting herself in.

“Hello?” Fallon called from within, confusion and a hint of panic in her tone.

“It’s just me!” Kirby assured her, kicking off her shoes and dropping her bag as she made her way inside towards the living room.

“You’re really bad at laying low,” Fallon informed her as Kirby drew closer. The brunette was sitting upright in the center of the couch, eyes locked on the television screen across from her. Only her eyes flicked from the screen to Kirby when she made her way in, before darting back to the screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Standing next to the television, Kirby stared at the other woman, watching as Fallon simply reached for the remote and wordlessly turned up the volume.

The TMZ opening ramp-up filled the room, and Kirby turned to try to see the screen instead.

_ “Kirby Anders and Darcy Day having drinks in the hills -” _

_ “They don’t have her on an ankle monitor?” _

Kirby stiffened a little, but let the comment slide when Fallon raised one finger at her as if anticipating an interruption.

_ “Are they dating? They’re dating, right?” _

_ “Some PA on their movie is claiming its a scam. Says she’s not into guys -” _

_ “Right, right, right, right, she was with Alice Alby, right?” _

Marching over to the couch, Kirby picked up the remote and shut off the television, throwing both of them into silence.

“What do I do?”

Fallon looked up at Kirby and sighed, patting the couch beside her for her to sit. 

“Are you asking me as your publicist or your friend?”

Kirby pressed the side of her thigh to Fallon’s, looking at the black screen of the television instead of the other woman for a moment as she considered.

“Both, I guess.”

“As your publicist,” Fallon started, “I think you should get on top of this quickly. It feels like it’s snowballing at this point, and if you say something before anyone else can, it might help you control the narrative a little bit better. Otherwise, you eventually coming out is just going to be about Alice.”

Kirby turned to look at her, nodding slowly.

“I… loved Alice a lot,” she admitted. “But she can’t be the most notable thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Fallon looked over at her properly, and then suddenly leaned into her, pressing her cheek to her arm and sighing heavily.

Automatically slipping an arm around her shoulders, Kirby brushed her thumb back and forth across her skin.

“What’s your advice as a friend, then?” Kirby asked.

“As your friend, I think you need to figure out exactly what you want before you do anything.”

“You know that I know exactly what I want,” Kirby reminded her.

The implication hung in the air between them for a moment, and then Fallon tilted her head back to look up at the actress seriously.

“Then do what’s going to make you happy.”

Shifting a little and then handing Kirby her phone that she’d left behind, she settled back in against her and seemed to comfortably deflate into her side. It took everything in Kirby’s power not to let herself immediately begin daydreaming about doing this every time that she had a shitty day at work.

Opening her Twitter app, Kirby began typing, ignoring the way that her hands began to shake in anticipation.

_ @KirbyAnders: Re: the rumours circulating, I am not dating @DarcyDayOfficial. What year is it? Men and women can be friends. _

She sent the tweet, and after a short moment, Fallon’s own phone buzzed. Watching the brunette pull it out and scan the lock screen notification, Kirby took a deep breath and began to type again, attaching a reply to her original tweet.

_ @KirbyAnders: Especially considering that I have a girlfriend, already. I will now be fielding exactly zero questions. _

Kissing the top of Fallon’s head, she watched as the second notification flew in, and then pulled back as the brunette suddenly sat up and spun around to look at her.

“This is -”

“When I said that Alice couldn’t be the most notable thing that’s ever happened to me, it didn’t mean she wasn’t important.” Kirby sat up a little, herself, and then reached for Fallon, putting one hand on her knee. She held her breath, waiting for the other woman to pull away, then smiled genuinely when she didn’t. “She was smart. And we talked about manifestation that night. A lot.”

“So?” Fallon’s eyes flicked back and forth between hers.

“So I’m manifesting it. Do this, with me.”

Fallon dropped her gaze for a moment, and then covered Kirby’s hand with her own.

“This is… really unprofessional.”

Kirby laughed once, unable to keep it to herself while the other woman chuckled despite her obvious nerves.

“I’m just asking you to give it a shot,” Kirby promised, tilting her head down a little to try to catch Fallon’s gaze again.

Looking up, Fallon took a deep breath and then closed her eyes before nodding.

“Okay.”

Surging forward and kissing her, Kirby pulled the brunette nearly into her lap, letting her break away to laugh by kissing her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck.

“Oh my  _ god _ , I said okay!” Fallon practically squealed, pushing half-heartedly at her arms and chest. “ _ Enough _ !”

“Oh, no,” Kirby shook her head a little, but mercifully stopped peppering her with kisses. “Get used to it. This is going to be routine.”

“As long as part of the routine involves you coming here all of the time. I can’t do Sunday night dinner in that one-bedroom with all the dead plants.” 

“I moved,” Kirby chuckled, shaking her head. “Wow, you really fell out of touch in those three months, didn’t you?”

Fallon sat up a little to look down at her, and brushed a piece of hair off of her face slowly with a sly grin.

“What else don’t I know about you?”

Kirby grinned back, teasing, “I can’t tell you. We need to even the playing field first. I have a lot more to figure out about you before you get any more dirt on me.”

Her response made the publicist laugh, leaning down to kiss her one more time. 

Deepening it, Kirby squeezed Fallon’s waist and rocked her hips up closer to her, groaning softly when the brunette pulled away sharply and suddenly slid off of her and the couch altogether to stand up.

“None of that. We have work to do first. Get your shoes on, we can take my car to the office and start on strategy.”

Dusting invisible dirt from her skirt, Fallon shook her hair back from her face and visibly tried to regain some of her composure before heading into the foyer and digging through the closet for her jacket.

Unpaid work on a Sunday wasn’t Kirby’s ideal, but it looked like it was going to be the price of dating her publicist. Watching Fallon compare two jackets with her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth in concentration, unaware that she was being watched, Kirby felt a swell of affection in her chest and couldn’t contain her grin.

“Are you coming? I want to get back in time to catch eTalk tonight,” Fallon called impatiently.

Hopping up from the couch, Kirby ignored the flurry of incoming Twitter notifications on her phone and shoved it into her pocket, making her way to where the other woman was waiting for her.

  
Worth it, worth it,  _ worth it. _


	26. Chapter 26

Kirby rounded the corner behind Fallon into the snack aisle, swinging the basket from her arm boredly.

 

“I’m not eating those weird sweet potato sticks again. I want actual chips. With all the bad sodium.”

 

Fallon snorted, glancing back over her shoulder at her girlfriend and shaking her head.

 

“Will you please take those stupid things off? You look like a blind jazz musician.”

 

Stopping in her tracks and stepping closer to her girlfriend, the brunette reached out for the sunglasses she was wearing, huffing in annoyance when the redhead leaned back out of her reach and pulled them off, holding them over her head.

 

“Excuse me, these sunglasses make me look  _ extremely _ cool.”

 

“Not inside of a Trader Joe’s, they don’t.” Fallon tried to reach for them as casually as possible while still keeping her dignity intact.

 

“You’re being a hater,” Kirby insisted, chewing her lip to try to hold back her mischievous grin. 

 

Huffing a single annoyed breath in defeat, Fallon dropped her arm and turned around, walking away down the aisle without waiting for the actress to follow.

 

She did, though, sidling up behind Fallon a moment later and falling into step with her as she walked.

 

“Don’t pout in the Trader Joe’s,” Kirby said mock-sternly, slipping one arm around her waist and pulling her into her side despite her whine of protest. “You’re making a scene.”

 

“You and your obnoxious movie star disguise are making a scene!” Fallon insisted, feeling Kirby’s hand creeping up her side and then squeezing at the sensitive spot under her ribs. “ _ Don’t! _ ”

 

Mercifully, the redhead stopped, turning Fallon to face her and then grinning when she could see her resolve crumbling. Pulling her sunglasses off and tucking them into her hair, she leaned in closer and kissed her temple.

 

“We have plenty of time. Don’t be impatient.”

 

Sighing quietly, Fallon felt a tiny hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and then glanced into the basket only to see that Kirby had successfully found the chips and loaded up on them.

 

“You’re awfully calm and collected given everything,” Fallon pointed out.

 

“I’m just hungover,” Kirby joked, grinning and letting her go to turn and continue down the aisle. “Seriously, were you trying to kill me?”

 

“I told you that wine and jacuzzi is a dangerous combination,” Fallon pointed out, slipping her hand into Kirby’s as they walked.

 

“Well, it was worth it. Had to break it in one of these days.” 

 

The pair of them wandered towards the checkout quietly, and Fallon watched as Kirby pretended not to notice herself on a few of the magazine covers displayed nearby.

 

“Aren’t you that girl from -”

 

“She is,” Fallon answered before the cashier could finish her question, swiping her card quickly and then shoving the bag of snacks at Kirby to take. “Thank you.”

 

Without waiting, she began marching towards the door, hearing Kirby jog to keep up with her as she stepped outside into the sun.

 

“We could use the jacuzzi again tonight.” 

 

Kirby’s suggestion came as Fallon unlocked the car and moved aside for Kirby to tuck the bag into the trunk.

 

“Victory soak?” Fallon asked, smiling a little bit when the redhead grew good naturedly embarrassed.

 

“Or a consolation prize.”

 

“What’s the prize part?” Fallon asked faux-innocently as she opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat, watching through the windows as Kirby made her way around to her own side and climbed in as well.

 

“Funny.”

 

Kirby dropped one hand to the brunette’s thigh and left it there as she started the car, heading out of the parking lot and into the busy street. 

 

“You’re going to get bored of it,” Fallon warned.

 

“I’ll never get bored of having a place with a jacuzzi, trust me.” Reaching out and fiddling with the radio, Kirby dropped her sunglasses back into place on her face and surfed through the channels to find something to listen to.

 

“That’s what you said about the fireplace,” Fallon reminded her. “ _ And _ the smart fridge.”

 

“It’s been too hot for a fire, and the smart fridge got annoying very quickly. You even agreed with me.”

 

Fallon glanced at the redhead as her tone grew more riled up, then smiled when Kirby caught her eye and chuckled to herself.

 

“We’ll jacuzzi tonight.”

 

Letting go of her thigh to clap excitedly, Kirby leaned over at the next red light and kissed the brunette’s cheek affectionately.

 

They made good time returning to their house - to which Fallon quickly headed inside to avoid an ‘I told you so’ from the actress about having plenty of time, despite Fallon assuming they would be late - and the air conditioning was a wonderful welcome from the uncharacteristically blistering weather outside.

 

Slipping past Fallon and heading straight to the kitchen, Kirby brushed a hand along her lower back and then scampered off, followed by the telltale sound of the wine fridge being pulled open.

 

The new house had only been theirs for the past month, but Fallon already felt completely at home. 

 

When she and Kirby had  _ actually _ been handed the keys, Fallon had expected a bigger feeling of accomplishment, and the fact that it didn’t feel as monumental as she thought it should have had made her nervous at the time. She’d chalked it up to the excessive amounts of negotiating and hunting they’d done just wearing her down too far to be anything but sleepy and relieved when the process was over, and after only a few nights together, alone, she felt considerably better.

 

“Ok, Google - play some music.”

 

Kirby’s voice floated into the hall as Fallon made her way further inside, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a laugh when the robotic voice filled the kitchen speakers.

 

_ “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” _

 

Fallon rounded the corner in time to watch Kirby slap the front of the fridge, the screen being unaffected by her sudden outburst.

 

“Forget the music,” Fallon interrupted, making her way over and grabbing the other woman’s hand as she went to manually punch in her command. “It’ll be starting soon.”

 

Turning to Fallon and gripping a bottle of rosé in one hand, Kirby’s features shifted from annoyance to calmness.

 

“Get comfy. I’ll pour this.”

 

Fallon squeezed her hand before dropping it and headed into the living room to turn on the TV.

 

Scrolling through the entertainment channels, she landed on the Oscar announcements pre-show and let it play in the background as Kirby appeared and handed her a glass of wine.

 

“Missed you, today.”

 

The redhead sat down unnecessarily close, given the size of the sectional couch, then immediately used her free hand to pull one of Fallon’s legs up over her own.

 

Snorting at the awkward position she was pulled into, Fallon shifted around to more comfortably rest her legs across her girlfriend’s lap and sipped her wine before responding.

 

“We just went shopping.”

 

“Yeah,” Kirby said slowly, as if Fallon were being dense. “You were at work all day and then we immediately had to run errands. This is the first time I’m getting you to myself.”

 

In the year that they’d been together, Fallon still hadn’t quite wrapped her head around how content the other woman was to just  _ be _ around her. It was like she never grew bored of her company, whether they were at home, or work, or one of their never-often-enough getaways together. It was an almost dizzying kind of love - the way the actress was always excited whenever she got home, ready to be wrapped up in her and listen to her talk (or complain) about any part of her day.

 

It had been part of the reason why moving in together had seemed like such a logical step instead of one that would have had Fallon from two years prior terrified. 

 

“Are you nervous?” Fallon asked, setting her glass down on the table in sync with Kirby, who fully turned her attention to her.

 

“No,” the actress scoffed, waving a hand. 

 

Fallon fixed her with a knowing look, though she didn’t have much time to soak it up as Kirby immediately leaned in and pulled her closer, kissing her jaw and then her neck slowly.

 

It was a nervous habit, Fallon had come to realize; distracting herself with Fallon whenever she needed to shut everything else out. 

 

“No? Not even a little bit?” 

 

It probably wasn’t nice to tease her, but Kirby quickly sought her revenge by nipping at her earlobe and wringing an embarrassing surprised sound out of her.

 

Her self-distraction was cut short when Fallon pulled away quickly, scrambling for the remote to turn up the volume as the Academy theme music began to fill the room.

 

“Stop, stop!” Fallon hissed, all but pushing the redhead away when her hands threatened to creep up the bottom of her dress. “It’s starting!”

 

“Fine,” Kirby sighed, though she was smiling, now. 

 

Sensing her nerves, Fallon took her hand and squeezed it, giving her a small, reassuring nudge.

 

“You ready to do this again?”

 

Kirby’s question surprised her, as if she had been the one that was nervous.

 

“I’m ready,” Fallon assured her. “Are  _ you? _ ”

 

Taking a deep breath, Kirby held it for a moment, and then nodded.

 

“Yeah,” she exhaled heavily. “Yeah, we got this.”

 

Turning her attention back to the TV, Fallon paid no mind to Kirby’s fingers readjusting and tightening around her hand.

 

_ “And the nominees for Best Actress in a leading role are…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love every single person that stuck this fic out. This fic was of a lot more importance to me for escapism this summer than a lot of people reading really know. Thank you again, Amanda, for beta-reading every chapter and thank you to all of my friends for supporting this weird AU and encouraging me the entire time. Thank you, thank you, thank you.


End file.
